


What Death Leaves Behind

by alphabeting



Category: The End Of The Fucking World (TV)
Genre: Bucket List, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, Implied/Referenced Suicide, My Heart and Other Black Holes AU, Past Suicide Attempt, Scars, Sexual Harassment, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21616891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabeting/pseuds/alphabeting
Summary: Maybe it’s dumb, maybe she should just-- steal her mum’s Xanax and find a secluded alleyway right now to down them all, but she’s already failed, so miserably, spent half an hour working up a believable story to explain the gash on her hand only for no one to even ask; it’s all just kind of embarassing. She needs to change tactics.J5555: my dad caught me last time I tried this. need assistance. message me.“Right,” she murmurs, under her breath. If ever there was a sign, this is it. There’s a little Send Message button in the right corner, which she clicks.Hi, she starts. I live in your town. Let’s meet. You know Rudy’s?The message is concise. Alyssa hits send.When killing herself doesn't work the first time, Alyssa seeks help, in the form of a push-- something to help override that survival instinct, a hand to squeeze. She finds James.
Relationships: Alyssa/James (The End of the Fucking World)
Comments: 118
Kudos: 83





	1. Top Ten Creepiest Websites on the Internet

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the premise of My Heart and Other Black Holes. Alyssa and James find each other on a website that matches suicide partners. I swear to god it's not that dark and edgy, LIKE it kind of is but it's probably not worse than canon. ahaha bear with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James meet up. If you are using a suicide website with the intended purpose, you are probably kind of a weirdo.

It’s the type of website that you’d find on a YouTube video, one of those “Top Ten CREEPIEST Websites on the Internet!!!” videos. The look of it isn’t actually so bad, which, Alyssa thinks, is probably on purpose, just a small block of text and some links organized at the top, for any passersby to glance at and think nothing of. That’s lucky, because Alyssa smashed her phone the other day, so she’s got to use the “family computer,” which is an ancient thing in the old study room. No one really goes in there, anymore, but it’s good to be careful.

The intentions are what make the website alarming, are why Alyssa clears her browser history after every use, why she checks over her shoulder every now and then to make sure no one has snuck into the room behind her. MacsPage.org is a website for suicide.

Okay, but it’s not that dramatic actually. Nobody has to freak out, go on about “suicide is not the answer, please love yourself, life is a rainbow and you are the sun.” It’s just, some people aren’t really… _meant_ to be around, sometimes people are born by mistake, people who don’t really have a place in the world and probably never will. It’s like trying to fit a square block into a round hole. It just can’t happen.

Plus, like, dead people don’t care. You don’t sit in a coffin going _fuck, what a shit idea that was, could I have a redo?_ When you die, that’s it. And yeah, it means you won’t get to feel happy anymore, you won’t be there for your siblings’ graduations, you’ll miss out on a new book you might’ve liked, you don’t get to eat chocolate ice cream anymore, but it also means you won’t _care_ about any of that stuff, and-- and you won’t feel so sad, or so fucking _empty_ all the time. The pros outweigh the cons, at least in Alyssa’s case. It’s just, like, a thing that has to happen. It’s inevitable.

So here she is.

Only problem is, she’s tried it on her own, and that ended with nothing but a cut on her hand from dropping the razor and a panic attack on the lid of her toilet. So she’s enlisting… _help,_ say, because what needs to be done needs to be done, whatever it’s gonna take.

Her mouse hovers over one link. _Partners._

“Alyssa?”

Her eyes widen and she quickly switches the tab to a Wikipedia article. Her mother knocks on the door, not waiting for a response before popping her head in, “Dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes if you want to join.”

Alyssa scrolls, carefully staring at a block of text on the screen. “What’s the point in knocking if you aren’t even gonna wait for a response?”

Gwen purses her lips and hovers a moment before disappearing, shutting the door after her. Alyssa drops her shoulders and sighs in annoyance, watching the door until her mother’s footsteps retreat, and then switches back to MacsPage. _Partners._ She clicks the link.

Maybe it’s dumb, maybe she should just-- steal her mum’s Xanax and find a secluded alleyway right now to down them all, but she’s already failed, so miserably, spent half an hour working up a believable story to explain the gash on her hand only for no one to even ask; it’s all just kind of embarassing. She needs to change tactics.

She sorts by location until she notices one posting, from her own town. From three days ago. Alyssa’s heart rate picks up a little bit and she clicks it, reading the post.

_J5555: my dad caught me last time I tried this. need assistance. message me._

Alyssa reads it over a few times.

“Right,” she murmurs, under her breath. If ever there was a sign, this is it. There’s a little _Send Message_ button in the right corner, which she clicks.

 _Hi,_ she starts. _I live in your town. Let’s meet. You know Rudy’s?_

Rudy’s Coffee, small place in the center of town. Good coffee, shit everything else. A decent, public place for meeting, in case this guy is a perv or something. If he’s not, they’ll move somewhere else.

The message is concise. Alyssa hits send.

  
  


She spends the next day waiting to get home from school, to check her inbox for a reply. It goes by in phases, and Alyssa is stock still in the middle of it all, on autopilot. She doesn’t feel herself breathe or blink until the final bell rings. When she finally walks through the door and kicks her shoes off, mum is too busy with a crying baby to pay her any mind, and Tony is nowhere to be seen, so she heads straight upstairs and into the computer room, firmly shutting the door behind her. She slings her bag down and plops into the office chair, navigating to her inbox.

There’s one email from MacsPage. A response. She bites down on the inside of her cheek, hard, and clicks it--

_J5555: yes._

Alyssa wrinkles her nose. Clearly a chatterbox, this one.

 _Okay,_ she types. _Meet me there, four o clock tomorrow. I’ll have a red jacket and a black bookbag._

She hits send.

  
  


She finds that there is no difference between the pre-Macspage part of her day and the post-Macspage part. It’s more snapshots, ‘here’s me with a plate of mum’s casserole, there’s me showering, there’s me brushing my teeth.” It’s all set to the same droning soundtrack, and every now and then Alyssa closes her eyes to find herself her ankle tied to a weight at the bottom of a pool, and she can’t breathe, and there is no such thing as up or down until she blinks and she is in her bathroom again. Her mum is knocking on the door, one of the twins has shat and she needs the wet wipes, and Alyssa shuts her eyes because her life looks like this.

“Just open the door a crack and pass them through. Alyssa. You hear me, don’t you?”

She spits toothpaste and rinses her mouth. Wipes her face on her shirt. Opens the door and locks eyes with her mother.

“Why didn’t you answer me?” Gwen asks, quiet but accusing. She’s got baby Liv in her arms. “This is not how we achieve a functioning household.”

“Dunno.” Alyssa brushes by, off to the computer, one last time before bed. There is a new one-word response, and it’s just, like, the bare minimum he could’ve answered with, but it sends a jolt of adrenaline through her nonetheless.

_J5555: okay._

That’s that, then. She deletes all the emails, all the browser history, and goes to bed.

  
  


Alyssa stands on the sidewalk, staring up at the big, blocky _Rudy’s Coffee_ sign above her, hands gripping the straps of her backpack. She narrows her eyes at the building, looking, waiting, and there’s a moment where all the sound is vacuumed away, it’s just _oh my god, here I go, then,_ but she can’t _move._ She can’t look away from the fucking block letters, hands tightening around the straps--

Someone knocks past her on a scooter, jostling her, and the sound all rushes back in.

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” she shouts after them. They don’t stop. Alyssa sighs, tucks a strand of hair away, and moves to the side to pull her jacket out of her bag. She holds it for just a moment, looking at it, and then shrugs it on. Zips up her bag and shoulders it.

The bell dings as the door opens. There's an old lady at a table, alone with a book, and a small group of teenagers, too immersed in their own shit to even notice her. Alyssa goes up to the counter and orders a small black coffee for herself. Collects it, pays, finds herself a seat in the corner.

Proceeds not to touch it.

Alyssa doesn’t bite her nails, but she chews worriedly at the skin around them, practically glaring at the door. What if it’s a fucking psycho that walks in? Like a dirty old man or something? Or like, this is a joke, and a group of her classmates will walk in, phone cameras out--

She bites down too hard on the corner of her thumb and winces, but it gets her to snap out of it. She sucks a bit of blood off it and continues waiting.

It’s maybe ten minutes before the door opens again. When it does, Alyssa pays sharp attention. A boy walks in, dark clothes, bangs over his eyes, and she watches him carefully, his small movements, his demeanor. He scans the room, eyes landing on her for a moment and widening just a little, before he looks down to the floor. He makes his way over to her and awkwardly sits down, touching the table tentatively as he does, then pulling his hand away.

“Hey,” he utters.

“Hey.”

“I’m James.”

“I’m Alyssa.”

There’s a brief pause. Maybe this was all a mistake.

“I’m glad you’re not an old man or a freak or something,” Alyssa says politely, hands folded on the table in front of her.

“Yeah?” James lifts his eyebrows slightly, still avoiding eye contact.

“Yep.”

He nods a bit. “Hm.”

He knows enough about to probably get her committed to a psych ward, and vice versa. That's strange.

“D’you want coffee?” Alyssa asks. James shakes his head.

“Not really,” he says.

“Okay. Do you want to leave, then?”

James glances around the room. She can't tell if he's nervous or just sort of Like That.

“...Sure,” he says.

He’s pretty weird. You probably have to be, if you’re on a suicide website. She wonders what his motives are. She’s not going to ask.

They get up. Alyssa leaves her own coffee, untouched, on the table.

The bell gives a chime as they exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [it's good to be young but let's not kid ourselves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdY7aDVYAJs)
> 
> there is not a lot of teotfw fanfiction and I'm confused I guess because it seems like a relatively popular show? oh well
> 
> the fact of the matter is, if you comment I will feel more motivated and the more motivated I feel the easier it is to write. so you could leave a comment if you want, I'll always respond


	2. You're Really Kind of Screwed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James sit on a roof make a plan. Phil eats cereal and watches daytime television. Alyssa watches the twins, and Liv has an asshole brother. For the record, James does not have an Xbox.

They just sort of walk side by side for a while, until they make it to a park. It’s pretty much empty, since it’s freezing out in the middle of February, which is really great because they don’t need an audience for the conversation they’re about to have.

“So,” Alyssa starts.

“So.”

There’s a pause. Alyssa is trying to come up with something to say-- how exactly do they go about this? She feels like an idiot for not thinking it through beforehand. Surprisingly, though, James speaks first.

“We’re going to have to take some time,” he says. “To plan. Like I said, my dad found me when I tried it last October, so it-- he’s watching me, now. Constantly.”

“Oh,” says Alyssa.

“I think, maybe if we can pretend like we’re friends for a while, he’ll get off my back and we can actually go through with it.”

Alyssa frowns. “How long, do you think?”

James shrugs. “Couple of months, I dunno.”

“Right. Fine, then.”

Alyssa leads them to a bench, overlooking the duck pond. They go quiet again.

“Do you care how we do it?” she asks.

“Not really.”

“Me either. I mean, nothing horrible, but like.” She shrugs.

“Sure,” James mutters. A beat later, “What’s horrible?”

Alyssa sucks her teeth for a moment. “I dunno. Just like. I dunno. I think it’d be fucked up to hang yourself, for one, just because it’d be so slow.”

“Noted.”

“And drowning seems bad.”

James hesitates. Nods. “Okay.”

“Not that I’m picky. I’m not.”

James hums, acknowledging her plaintively . They stare across the pond.

“I should come over to your house,” says Alyssa.

“Okay.”

“So your dad sees us hanging out together.”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow, after school,” she suggests.

“Fine.”

They lapse back into silence.

“What time is it?” she asks, for lack of anything better to say.

James shrugs. “Dunno.”

Alyssa frowns at him. “What, don’t you have a phone or something?”

“No.”

“Hm.” She looks back out towards the pond. “Me either. Smashed it. Why don’t you have one?”

“Don’t want one.”

“Right. Do you have anything else to say?”

“Guess not.”

“Fine.” She stands. “I’ll go home, then.”

“Fine.”

Alyssa goes home.

  
  


The moment the front door closes, Alyssa hears her name being called from the kitchen-- “Alyssa? Is that you?” and then it becomes a chase. She darts up the stairs, outrunning the clacking of her mother’s shoes, away from the repeated, “Alyssa!” making it into the bathroom and locking the door after her, seconds to spare. She runs the shower, throws her bag down, and sits cross-legged on the lid of the toilet.

“Alyssa.” Gwen’s footsteps finally approach. The doorknob rattles. “Open this door.”

“I’m busy!” Alyssa shouts, louder than necessary. Checks her nails.

“Alyssa!”

“Can’t hear you, I’m in the shower!”

“Alyssa, you were meant to watch the twins this afternoon.”

Shit. Alyssa hesitates, gaze shooting towards the door. Was that right?

“Come out of there, now, please.”

“Fuuuck,” Alyssa groans, rolling her eyes, forcing herself up. She unlatches the door and opens it.

Gwen’s mouth is a thin line. “Where have you been?”

Alyssa stares at her for a second. Shakes her head, shrugs. “Jus’-- out.”

“Young lady--”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Alyssa bursts. She picks up her bag and brushes past her mum, down the stairs. She hears the shower turn off and then Gwen’s footsteps close behind.

Alyssa drops her bag in the living room, near where the twins are playing together, on their mat.

“I’m off to run errands,” Gwen says, moving about the downstairs as she collects her jacket and bag. “Dinner’ll have to be late, now. They’ve both been changed, recently, everything should be fine, just keep an eye on them ‘til I’m back.”

The door shuts before Alyssa can even reply.

“Well, then.” Alyssa sits down on the sofa, in front of the babies. Tommy’s got a couple of foam blocks that he’s banging together, while Liv is just sort of drooling on herself, staring up at Alyssa. Alyssa leans forward. Stares back.

“Yeah, you’re a baby, aren’t you?” she murmurs. She shuts her eyes for a few seconds, then opens them as wide as she can at her sister. Liv giggles. Keeps watching.

“You’re gonna grow up same as me, aren’t you,” says Alyssa. “‘Cept you’ve got Tony for a dad. That’s fucking rotten luck.”

Liv makes a little baby noise. Looks away, flaps her hand, looks back.

“Wonder how you’ll be.”

Out of nowhere, Tommy decides to throw one of the foam blocks at Liv’s head, jostling her. Liv is surprised and confused for a moment, and then she begins to cry.

Alyssa clicks her tongue. “Oh--”

She stands, scoops her sister up in her arms.

“Christ, Liv, it’s fuckin’ foam, you’ll be alright,” she says, beginning to bounce and rock her nonetheless. “Shh, come on.”

Liv hiccups a few times, then begins to calm down. Alyssa blows out a stream of air, cradles her sister’s head, scritches her peach-fuzzy hair a bit.

“You’ve got an asshole brother and an asshole dad. You’re really kind of screwed.”

Liv smacks her in the chin.

“Yeah, alright.” Alyssa sets her back down on the mat and resumes her own spot on the sofa. Hands her the same block Tommy had just thrown at her. Liv takes it, curiously, and bangs it against the floor a few times before sticking it straight into her mouth. She gnaws at it, looks at Alyssa. She’s still got tears on her face. Alyssa reaches over and wipes them off.

“Get out of here, yeah?” Alyssa whispers to her, like she’s telling a secret. “This is a nightmare house. You’ve gotta leave before it gets bad.”

Liv drops the block and grabs Alyssa’s finger, which is still lingering on her cheek. Smiles with the few baby teeth she’s got. Alyssa’s mouth twitches at the sight, but she leans back, pulling away and crossing her legs. Dirt from her trainer smears onto the clean, white sofa.

“It does get bad, you know. Watch.”

Liv just gurgles in response.

  
  


Dinner is noisy, like usual. Tony couldn’t be bothered to get off the phone, and Gwen is dealing with Tommy, who’s mashing his hands about his plate of avocado and banana rather than let her feed it to him. The only quiet one other than Alyssa is Liv, who’s begun to fall asleep in her highchair. Tony’s meant to be handling her but he’s simply not, so Alyssa pinches her cheek to wake her up and sticks a spoonful of green mash into her mouth. She shakes her head but doesn’t spit it out, which is good enough, then.

Alyssa chases a bit of penne around her plate with a fork. “I’m going to visit a friend tomorrow,” she announces loudly.

“Tommy, _no,”_ Gwen scolds, frustrated, “that’s for eating, not for--”

“So I won’t be around,” Alyssa continues.

Gwen takes Tommy’s plate away from him. He’s confused for a moment, and then he begins to wail. Tony glares, plugs a finger into the ear unoccupied by the phone, and walks off. Gwen tries to calm her son.

Alyssa stabs the penne and sticks it into her mouth, sharply. She chews for a moment, sighs through her nose, puts her fork down. Breathes.

“He’s called James?” she attempts, looking up and around at her family.

“Alyssa, please,” Gwen utters sharply, trying to wipe Tommy with a napkin.

Alyssa stares for a moment. Fine, then. She picks up her fork, takes another mouthful of pasta.

Actually, no.

Her fork hits the plate with a clatter, and she stands abruptly, taking her dish into the kitchen.

“Alyssa?”

She dumps her plate into the sink, food and all.

“Alyssa, you have not been excused from the table--”

“Oh, haven’t I?” she calls back.

Tommy is still screaming. Alyssa marches up the stairs, into her room, shuts the door and goes to her bed, lying down on her stomach. She slams a pillow over her head and tries to block out the noise.

  
  


“I haven’t got a door.”

Alyssa doesn’t say anything for a moment, trying to work out the context of that statement on her own. She gives up.

“What?”

“My dad took it off. The doctors said I’d try killing myself again if he didn’t.”

“Oh.”

They’re walking to James’s house together, after school. He’s got a skateboard tucked under his arm. His house seems to be kind of isolated, which is weird, but maybe it makes sense, considering this is _James._ His family’s probably assassins or something.

“How the hell do you get privacy, then?” Alyssa asks. She can’t imagine how the lack of privacy would make someone want to commit suicide _less._

“The roof.”

Alyssa squints. “The _roof?_ What, like being on your own three stories up is perfectly alright, but it’s the bedroom _door_ that’ll do you in?”

“Guess so,” James responds, perfectly neutral.

Alyssa scoffs. “Fucking weird.”

They make it to James’s house, and, okay, it makes a little more sense. A fall from that height probably couldn’t kill you unless you tried, like, really hard, but it’s still weird though.

“Your house is weird,” Alyssa comments, taking in the flat, square-ish shape of it and all the windows.

“Thanks.”

“Where’s your dad?” she asks.

“On the couch, probably.”

Alyssa turns her head, looking at James expectantly. He meets her gaze, and then seems to realize himself, parting his lips before he leads the way inside.

The inside of James’s house isn’t quite as strange-looking as the outside, but it’s sort of a clash of tastes, like if two people went around decorating in their own way without talking to one another or even bothering to move each other’s stuff. James leads her into the living room, where a fat, bald man is sat on the couch with a bowl of cereal, laughing at something on the television.

“Dad.”

The man looks up in surprise, then smiles warmly at James.

“James! How’s--”

He falters, noticing Alyssa, and his smile melts back into a look of surprise. “Oh--”

Quickly, he puts his spoon back into the bowl and sets it all down on the table in front of him, spilling some milk in the process. He doesn’t seem to notice or care, though, as he stands up and smiles at Alyssa.

“I had no idea we were expecting company! I might’ve tidied a bit-- now, don’t look so surprised, James, I _can_ clean when I put my mind to it.” He chuckles at his own joke.

Alyssa looks to James, who is stoic as ever.

“This is Alyssa,” says James.

“I’m James’s friend,” she explains. It’s all very medical, very matter of fact.

“James’s friend?” Phil repeats, happy, surprised. “Well-- hello!” He grins, sticks his hand out. “I’m-- well, call me Phil.”

Alyssa reaches out tentatively, shakes his hand. “Phil,” she repeats.

Phil continues to smile, looking between the two, but then seems to realize himself. “Oh-- I was just watching a programme, here, but if you two want the telly--”

“No thanks,” Alyssa cuts in. “We’re going to the roof. Come on, James.”

She grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to the staircase. She assumes that’s the right place to go. James doesn’t correct her, anyway.

“Sure you wouldn’t like a snack or anything?” Phil calls after them.

“Maybe later, Phil,” she calls back.

“Careful up there,” he responds. Neither of them reply.

James takes over once they make it upstairs, leading them to a massive window which leads to the roof. He unlatches it and swings it open, hoisting himself over the windowsill and stepping out. Alyssa follows. They go to a spot overlooking the backyard, which is surrounded by a little hill and then woods. He’s got a pool right below them, too.

“Why’s your dad like that?”

They sit a few feet away from the edge, side by side, looking out across the barren treeline. James shrugs.

“Dunno,” he says.

“Hm.”

Alyssa pauses as something occurs to her. Looks at him. “Haven’t you got a mum?”

James shrugs. Alyssa fills her cheeks with air, and then blows it all out slowly. She doesn’t push that topic.

“He can’t hear us, can he?” she asks. “Not from here.”

James shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t think so.”

“We should come up with a plan.”

“Alright.”

Alyssa stubs a weird, gummy, black spot on the roof with her shoe. “How’d you do it before, then?”

James starts a bit. Sits up. “Hm?”

“Like… before.” Alyssa studies his face carefully. “When you--”

“Sleeping pills,” he responds quickly. “Took a-- a handful of them.” He swallows, like the muscles in his throat are remembering.

Alyssa sucks her teeth. Nods slowly. “Is that how you’d want to go, then?”

“Maybe.”

“It’s just, I don’t know where we’d even get pills? Do you? I mean, my mum’s got Xanax, but she keeps those locked up tight and I don’t know if there’d be enough, even, not for the both of us, so.”

“Something else, then.”

“Hm.” Alyssa twirls a strand of hair between two fingers. “Maybe…”

She stands up. James looks at her, watches her closely. She heads to the roof’s edge, the toes of her boots hanging over, kicks a pebble down into the pool. It hits the water with a plop, barely noticeable, and sinks to the bottom.

“Maybe we jump.” She stares down, hair blowing gently across her face. Rocks herself backwards. “I’m not scared of heights. Are you?”

She twists her body to face James, using one hand to keep the hair away from her face. He’s watching her, lips slightly parted, bangs rustling in the breeze.

“No,” he says.

Alyssa glances back down. Hums thoughtfully. She leaves the edge, going to stand in front of James, instead.

“You know the bridge overlooking the highway? It’s past the woods, the ones near school.”

James opens his mouth. Closes it. “Is that a bit gruesome?”

Alyssa raises her eyebrows. Shrugs, palms out, like _yeah, so?_ “It’s quick. Didn’t think you minded, anyway.”

“I don’t,” says James. “I thought you did.”

“I don’t mind if my corpse is freaky and badass, I mind if I die too slow,” Alyssa elaborates. “I don’t want to change my mind after it’s too late.”

“Oh.”

They pause, for a moment.

“Might you?” James asks.

“Might I what?”

“Change your mind?” James looks up at her through his bangs. Alyssa rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant. Just, like, survival instinct and stuff,” she explains, defensive. “I’m not gonna flake, James.”

James nods. Looks back down.

“Why?” she asks. “Are _you_ changing _your_ mind?”

James’s gaze snaps to her once more. “No.” He shakes his head, sincere. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” Alyssa murmurs, still slightly defensive. “Good.”

She sits back down, slowly, next to James. “So, the bridge, or something else, then?”

“That’s fine,” says James.

“Alright.”

They look out, together, across the yard, into the trees.

Alyssa leans back. “Have you got an Xbox or something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [now you're all gone, got your makeup on and you're not coming back](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDqNL0js0iU&list=LLM1EF5Bkrrc6mKSl2lfBZSA&index=4&t=0s)
> 
> thank you very much to the two people that commented on the last chapter, I appreciate the support so so much
> 
> comments are foooood so if you don't mind I'd really appreciate you dropping one if you read and enjoyed, PLUS it's a great way to make friends sometimes
> 
> ALSO here’s a new thing, alphabetingfic.tumblr.com, lmao I know this isn’t popular or anything but let me have fun, there’s updates there too
> 
> see ya


	3. Cut/Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James notice each other's scars for the first time. Alyssa likes Cold War movies, Tony is a weirdo, and cheap chocolate in a wet parking lot can really make your day. Watch out for black ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw in the end notes

Two days after Alyssa and James make their plan, after she teeters on the edge of his roof, after he tells her how he tried to overdose on sleeping pills, it’s a Sunday. That means mum is off with the twins at their 4pm baby enrichment class or something, which means Alyssa is stuck at home with Tony. Normally when this is the case, she likes to hole up in her room for an hour and a half until mum is back, carefully avoiding him, but there’s nothing to do in her room now that her phone is smashed, and Tony’s working in the office, anyway. So she’s in the living room with leggings and a t-shirt on, watching some black and white Cold War movie on cable, one leg up on the couch, head against the armrest.

“Oh, Donnie, they’re going to suck all our brains out, aren’t they? I don’t want to die!” cries the woman on the telly, Audrey Hepburn but shittier.

Her big, strong James Dean collects her into his arms-- “Now, I won’t let that happen to us, Janet,” and then he’s kissing her-- a gunshot rings out, making them both flinch and turn around--

“You into this stuff?”

Shit. Alyssa closes her eyes, biting down on her lower lip. She hadn’t heard him come down.

Tony stands in the entryway. He’s leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets, smirking slightly. Alyssa sits up, both feet now touching the floor, and shrugs.

“I guess.”

Tony moves in. Sits down next to her. He may as well have shat on the sofa. Alyssa grimaces and grabs the remote, turning the volume up significantly.

“I always thought these old films were a bit ridiculous,” says Tony.

Alyssa stares at him pointedly. “No one is _making_ you sit here and watch it with me,” she tells him, doing her very best to convey the _fuck off_ with just her tone.

Tony shrugs. “S’alright.”

Alyssa huffs. Tries to turn her attention back to the film. There’s a lot of fighting, and kissing. The Russians get fucked. Tony’s body is uncomfortably close to Alyssa’s body.

The movie ends with the lead kissing his girlfriend in front of a sunset. The moment the credits begin to roll, she switches the TV off and moves to head upstairs-- but as soon as she stands up, Tony’s got a hand gripped tightly around her wrist.

Alyssa shuts her eyes, heart beating in her ears.

“Hang on a minute, what’s got you in such a rush?” Tony asks, rubbing his thumb against her skin. It feels like he’s leaving a rash. “Stay.”

Alyssa purses her lips and refuses to turn towards him. She tugs.

Tony clicks his tongue, but he lets her go. “Such a drag, you are.”

Alyssa opens her eyes, glaring out at nothing, and yanks her wrist back, curls it against her chest like a wounded paw.

Fuck going upstairs, fuck being in the same house with this _creep._

She goes off in search of her coat and shoes, and as soon as she finds them, she’s out the door. She gets her stuff on outside, on the front step, huffing visible clouds of warm breath into the cold air as she tugs her laces tight as they can go, and storms off down the street. It’s freezing out. There’s still patches of snow on the ground, and she’s hardly dressed for it. _Fucking_ Tony-- making her leave the house in her pajamas, practically. And she’s got nowhere to go like this. It’s not like she’s got a friends house she can visit for a few hours--

Unless. Well.

They aren’t _friends,_ but they’re suicide partners, and that’s got to count for something. Plus, it can’t hurt to go over-- they’re trying to make themselves look like friends to his dad, and friends do stuff like spontaneously hanging out on weekends. And she doesn’t really have any better ideas. Alyssa hesitates, wondering if it would be weird. And then she decides, fuck it.

  
  


Fifteen minutes later, she’s knocking on James’s door.

A few moments go by, and then she sees Phil peek over at her, through the window next to the door. She raises one hand in greeting.

“Ah!” he seems to say, smiling and holding up a finger, a signal for _just a moment._ She hears the door unlatch and then it swings open.

“Hey Phil.”

“Alice!” Phil greets her, incorrectly. “Or-- sorry, no. Hang on, don’t tell me-- Alyssa, isn't it? Well, hello!”

Alyssa tries for a smile. “I’m here to see James. We’re good friends now.”

Shit. That was probably a bit on the nose.

“Right. Sure you aren’t here to see me?” Phil jokes.

Alyssa’s smile drops.

“No-- no, I was joking, just joking, love,” Phil rushes to correct himself. “I’m not-- er, I wouldn’t, uh.”

She watches him struggle and give up.

“Well, James is in his room, anyway.”

“Thanks.” Alyssa brushes past him and begins taking her shoes off.

“I’ll just get him,” Phil murmurs. He heads around the corner, up the stairs.

Alyssa finishes toeing her boots off. She nudges them to the side and goes to the living room, where Phil had disappeared to before going upstairs. Sits on the couch. Rubs her wrists and ankles together to warm them. Gets antsy and stands up again. She wanders around the room a little bit, checking out the collection of weird trinkets they’ve got on their cupboard-- there’s a framed photo of a woman, smiling softly at the lens, blonde hair, late thirties. It’s gotta be James’s mum. Alyssa picks up the photo to get a closer look, and wonders what happened to her.

There’s murmuring coming from upstairs. Alyssa puts the photo back-- it was a bit dusty, and her thumbprint leaves a smear on the frame. She faces the stairs. James comes down a few moments later, in dark jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt.

“Alyssa?” he asks. He looks a little bit surprised to see her. He swallows. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

James is a bit awkward. He pulls his sleeves down over his hands, so only his fingers show. “What are you doing here?”

Alyssa shrugs. “Wanted to get out of my house. My stepdad’s a prick.”

“Oh.” He nods. Swallows again, and she wonders if he’s dehydrated. “I’m sorry.”

Alyssa shrugs, again. “Yeah. Can I have a glass of water, please?”

James nods, again. “Okay.”

They go to his kitchen. She sits down at the table, quite large for a family of two, unless they get a lot of guests, which they clearly don’t. James fills a large glass with water from the sink and brings it to her. Alyssa gulps down half of it while James has a seat.

She wipes her mouth on her sleeve. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She takes another sip. Looks around the kitchen. It’s weirdly silent, the only noise coming from the clock, as it ticks-- it's one of those weird, black and white, grinning cheshire cat clocks, where the eyes move back and forth. Alyssa looks away from it, frowning.

She states, “I’m not wearing a bra, by the way.”

James doesn’t look at her. “Okay.”

“It’s just, I left my house pretty quick, so I didn’t have time to put one on.”

“Okay.”

“Does it bother you?” she asks, staring pointedly at her glass of water, at Not James.

James doesn’t answer for a few moments. She glances at him.

“No,” he says.

Alyssa nods. She turns back to her water.

The clock keeps ticking loudly. She sort of can’t stand it. She chugs the rest of the water, stands up and slides the glass away. The chair scrapes backwards, loudly.

“Can I see your room?” she asks.

She watches James as his eyes shift a bit. He shrugs. “Fine.”

She doesn’t wait for him, heading back out to the living room and up the carpeted stairs. James follows closely behind.

“Which one’s yours?” she asks, twisting to face him at the top of the stairs, one hand still clutching the railing.

“The one with-- no door,” he answers, hesitantly, like he’s not sure if he’s being made fun of or not.

Alyssa blinks, twisting back. She’d forgotten.

“Right,” she says, and moves on.

She’s a bit startled upon entering James’s room. What she was actually expecting, she’s not sure-- maybe, like. Taxidermy, or a bunch of weird grunge stuff, but it’s. There’s just nothing personal about it. At all. It feels like a guest room, almost. No old football trophies, no posters, literally not even laundry on the floor.

Alyssa turns to face James, eyebrows raised. “What,” she says, “Phil took all your stuff away, too?”

James doesn’t meet her gaze. “No,” he says.

Alyssa turns back around, lips pursed. “Alright then.”

She sits down on his bed, centered against the wall, dark blue sheets. Bounces a bit. She sighs and lies back, hands above her head.

“Oh,” she says, almost immediately, sitting up on her elbows and staring up at the ceiling. “You’ve got stars.”

He does. The glow-in-the-dark kind, about twelve of them, all varying in size. Stuck up there above his bed, on the otherwise bare ceiling.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Wish it was nighttime so we could see them.” Alyssa sits up, all the way, criss-crossing her legs. She half-smiles at him. He half-smiles back, but it’s a blink-and-you-miss-it kind of event, and it looks sort of painful.

She pats the space beside her on the bed, to her right, gesturing for him to come and sit. He does, after a quiet moment, and his hands grip the edge of the bed--

“What’s happened to your hand?” she asks, frowning. His left hand is all red and gnarled, like he’s got a disease, or something.

James looks down at it. He tightens his grip before he looks away again.

“Burnt it,” he says.

“Oh.”

“What happened to yours?”

Alyssa raises her eyebrows. She didn’t realize he’d noticed. She holds her palm up, looking down at it briefly, at the ugly white line crossing from the heel of her hand to the beginning of her index finger. Shrugs.

“Cut it.”

James nods. “Was that on purpose?” he asks casually.

Alyssa had been slouching, but at this she sits up, frowning. “What the fuck?”

James looks startled. “I--”

Something ugly sits in her stomach. “You can’t just ask something like that, James. That’s personal.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer,” he says quickly.

“It wasn’t on purpose. Obviously,” she insists. She clenches her hand, unclenches it. It almost hurts.

“Okay,” says James.

“I don’t cut myself,” says Alyssa.

“Okay,” says James.

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

Unclenches, clenches-- Alyssa stands up.

“Where’s your bathroom?” she asks, looking straight at him.

“Down the-- down the hall, first door left of the stairs.” He gestures. His gaze shifts, like he’s unsure of himself.

“Thanks.”

Alyssa leaves the room.

  
  


Her reflection is kind of ugly in the bathroom mirror. She hasn’t brushed her hair today, and she’s all pale. She pulls the lower lid away from her left eye. Stares at herself, wearing her dad’s old brown jacket zipped up, the leggings she’d been lounging in, bare feet. She clenches her right fist, the one with the scar.

That’ll be there until she rots, Alyssa bets.

She sits down on the toilet lid, buries her face in her hands, and she doesn’t cry but she feels a bit sick. Thinks about the last time she’d sat on a toilet lid, feeling sick. How she’d dropped the razor-- by accident, and fumbled to catch it, and. Water floods out from the bathtub, fills up the entire room until she’s drowning--

_Was that on purpose?_

Is that what people think? Is that what it looks like? Is that what everyone assumes, the reason why no one has ever actually asked before today?

Alyssa’s heart is beating too fast. She goes to the sink and leans over it, curls her toes against the bathmat, closes her eyes. She runs the cold water and splashes it against her face, focusing on the harshness of it.

_Wake up. You’re at James’s house._

Her eyes open. Water drips down her nose and chin, off her eyelashes, into the sink, onto her jacket.

Okay.

She wipes her face on her sleeve and shuts the water off before heading back to James’s room. He’s sitting on the bed, right where she’d left him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says. Low, but sincere. He keeps messing with his sleeves.

“I’m not upset. Let’s go.”

James pauses, looking at her. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno,” says Alyssa, flatly. “For a walk.”

She turns around sharply and heads back down the stairs. He’ll either follow, or he won’t, she decides, and if he doesn’t, then that’s. Well.

He does, anyway.

He appears again in the entryway as she’s putting her shoes on. Neither of them speak as he tugs on his shoes. They both stand and watch one another for a moment, silent, until Alyssa says, finally, “Don’t you need a coat?”

“No,” says James.

“Okay,” says Alyssa, and reaches for the door handle.

Neither of them talk for a few minutes, instead just walking quietly side by side. They’re surrounded by thin, barren trees, on either side, and nothing else except a guard rail for cars, no signs of life other than a plume of smoke rising in the distance, signalling maybe a chimney or a campfire. It’s a bit nice, actually. James lives on the furthest edge of town, farthest from the downtown, from anything else, really.

“This is such a shit day,” Alyssa says. They’re walking in the middle of the street. No cars have come by and hit them yet, unfortunately.

James hums noncommittally. He doesn’t have much to say, it seems, which isn’t unusual-- except this time, neither does she.

She can’t stop flexing her hand.

It’s almost night, anyway. The darkening sky casts everything in shades of deep blue, like a photo filter, or something. Alyssa sighs.

Maybe they should just--

There’s a blur, and a loud thud. Alyssa turns, alarmed, to find James on his ass behind her, looking every bit as surprised as she is.

“Fuck!” she exclaims, and bursts out laughing. “What the hell?”

“Fuck off,” mumbles James, surprise damping down into embarassment. His ears were already pink from the cold, but they grow just a little bit darker.

“Did you slip? What was that?”

James picks himself up as Alyssa continues to laugh, eyebrows raised at him, corners of her mouth aching. There’s a patch of black ice, easily mistaken for water-- he must’ve fallen on that.

He keeps walking, stiffly. Alyssa takes a moment, the last few hums of laughter fading out, before she catches up. And okay, yeah, she feels a bit lighter, and maybe she’s an asshole for that, but she does.

“Where does this road go to?” she asks.

“Haven’t you been this way before?”

“Obviously not?” Alyssa states. “Since I just asked?”

“I don’t know,” says James. “There’s a corner store in half a mile.”

“Let’s go there,” says Alyssa. “I need dinner. Do you have money?”

“No,” says James. “Do you?”

Alyssa checks her pockets. Sure enough, she’s got a few quid.

“I do,” she says.

“Fine, then,” says James.

They end up eating candy bars on the curb of a tiny parking lot, neon sign illuminating their backs red and blue, glowing against the wet pavement in front of them. James has his long legs folded up against him, while Alyssa is sprawled out, more. She uses her front tooth to scrape chocolate out from underneath her fingernail.

“You gonna eat that?” she asks, having finished her own chocolate, noticing he’s hardly touched his. He passes it over without a word.

“Thanks,” she says, biting a chunk off. She pauses. Sees him looking at her, through the corner of her eye. She glances at him, and he’s-- not smiling, exactly, not with his mouth, but he seems kind of amused, except she can't decide if he's laughing at her or with her.

“Shut up,” she tells him, either way, mouth full of chocolate. He looks back to the curb, but the expression doesn’t go away.

They have to walk home in the dark, and Gwen is not pleased with Alyssa upon her return, but. Weirdly, it turns out to be not such a bad day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I live in a nameless town](https://youtu.be/5Sko_A6dU_U)
> 
> tw for: tony being a creep (not too bad, but he grabs her wrist and implies some weird stuff), and not a panic attack but a could've-been-a-panic-attack-if-it-had-developed-to-that-point attack. be safe-- ALSO I want to clarify, I don't plan to tw suicide stuff since that is the whole premise of this fic, every chapter can be expected to have some mention of suicide. unless we go extra heavy on that, in which case I'll tw!
> 
> this isn't my most favorite chapter so far but that's okay. thank you very much to my [two](https://writeroutoftime.tumblr.com) [friends](https://owlstrix.tumblr.com) who beta'ed and were very reassuring, rita writes really great fanfic and strix makes lovely art so check them out
> 
> as always comments are appreciated, they help me stay motivated to keep writing this thing!!
> 
> find me at alphabetingfic.tumblr.com if you want to talk, be friends, send me an ask, anything at all. thank youuu!


	4. Lose Your Mind a Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James do something weird. It's important to have a bucket list if you are going to die in six weeks. Gwen feeds her babies some questionable substances.

They sit together at lunch again on Monday. On purpose, this time, not just because they have no one else to sit with. James has his headphones slung around his neck rather than over his ears-- which, Alyssa isn’t sure is he’s just being polite or if she’s actually meant to say something to him. He never talks, anyway, so neither does she.

Everything about him is very tidy-- he eats slowly, chews silently, keeps his spine straight. Keeps to himself. Keeps to himself, like, a lot. To the point that Alyssa is sure something must be wrong with him-- and then she reminds herself of how they met, and oh, yeah.

The only things he doesn’t keep to himself are his eyes. It feels like he is constantly scanning the room, watching every person’s little micromovements. Calculating. Calculating what, Alyssa doesn’t know. It’s sort of creepy, but that’s James, then.

It goes like this for about a week. They sit and eat quietly, both of them falling straight into a pattern-- Alyssa sits on the right, James on the left, and they don’t look at each other, and they don’t speak. Alyssa steals a bit of his food because it’s not like he’s eating it, anyway. Subsequently feels bad and slips him a bit of dessert, which he’ll eat, even if that’s _all_ he eats, some days. Then they get up, usually around the same time, dump their trays, and leave. To an outsider, it probably looks really-- well, tense, but it’s not. It’s comfortable. Solid.

Well, that’s Alyssa’s perspective, anyway.

On their second Tuesday, Alyssa doesn’t sit next to James. She sits across from him. She can tell he’s noticed because he pauses, but doesn’t react otherwise.

She’s sighing a lot. Prodding and playing with her food rather than eating it. There’s nothing horrible, just something she’s been thinking about, and it’s sort of hard to talk about because--

“What’s wrong?” James asks, forced casual, keeping his eyes and hands busy with his food.

“Have you got a bucket list?” Alyssa asks immediately, leaning forward and crossing her arms over the table.

James raises his eyebrows a bit, lips parting, glancing around them unsubtly. He swallows, having deemed that no one else is listening in, and leans forward a bit.

“Alyssa, could you be a bit quieter?”

“Shit,” she exclaims, eyes widening, “am I being loud?”

James squeezes his eyes shut, lips pursing. “Just-- just lower your voice, please.”

“Fuck,” Alyssa whispers, “sorry.”

James smiles at her, a little pained, and turns back to his food tray. Alyssa tries to do the same, but she just can’t.

“Do you, though?” she asks, voice pointedly low.

James doesn’t look at her. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I--” he looks a bit troubled-- “just don’t. Haven’t really thought about it.”

Alyssa frowns. “James,” she says, voice growing a bit, unintentionally, “we’re gonna be _dead,_ in like, a month, don’t you--”

James stands up suddenly, gaze forced downward, lips rubbing together anxiously. “Can we have this conversation somewhere else, please?”

Alyssa stares up at him. “Yeah,” she says. “Let’s go.”

They head to the courtyard, sit by the wired fence, face each other. Their trays are between them. It’s still cold out, and there’s snow and ice patches everywhere, so no one else is out there with them.

James is sitting still. Alyssa, sandwich in one hand, tosses a cookie onto his tray.

“I’m not a dog,” says James, a bit stiff.

Alyssa frowns, eyebrow twitching. “Fine, then.”

She takes her cookie back.

“But seriously,” she continues, “there’s _nothing_ you want to try this month? At all?”

James shrugs.

“Have you been to Disneyland?” Alyssa suggests.

“We aren’t going to Disneyland in the next month and a half.”

Alyssa wrinkles her nose. “I mean, we could. Steal our parents’ money and hop on a train. Have you got a passport?”

James glances up at her.

“Fine, then,” she murmurs. “Whatever. Ever been drunk?” she asks. “Ever kissed someone?”

James swallows. Shrugs.

“Okay, so that’s something.”

“Alyssa, I don’t think--”

Alyssa cuts him off. “Have you ever had sex?” she asks.

James hesitates. Alyssa takes a swig of orange juice.

“No,” he answers, slowly.

“Me either.”

“Okay.”

Alyssa picks up her cookie. “Are you sure you don’t want this?”

“No thank you,” says James, still not looking at her.

“Suit yourself.” She takes a bite. It’s dry, anyway. He’s not even missing out.

Neither of them speak for a moment.

“I’ve never been to the beach,” says James, quiet.

Alyssa gestures to him with the cookie. “There you go! I mean, it’s February, so you’ll fucking freeze, but that’s fine.”

James nods and has a sip from his straw.

“Have you…” Alyssa draws out the ‘you,’ leaning backwards, trying to think of something. “Ever TPed a house?”

James shakes his head, putting his drink down. “No.”

“Stayed out all night?”

“No.”

Alyssa frowns. “What _have_ you done?”

James shrugs, slowly.

“I’m not judging you.”

“I know.”

Alyssa purses her lips, thinking. “Have you ever done something _weird?”_

James’s eyes shift, slowly meeting hers. “What does that mean?”

“Something that doesn’t make sense,” Alyssa explains. “Like, I dunno. Broken into someone’s yard to jump on their trampoline. Climbed a tree at four in the morning.”

James frowns. “Why would I do those things?”

 _“Exactly._ Like, there can’t be any real motivation,” Alyssa says. “You just do it.”

“I… no.” James shakes his head. “I’ve never tried something like that.”

Alyssa nods. She balls up all her trash into her sandwich container and stands up.

“Shall we, then?” she asks.

James is lost. “Shall we?”

“Do something weird.”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. “I-- what do you have in mind?”

Alyssa shrugs.

  
  


James doesn’t ask questions as they head out of the school and into town, and he doesn’t ask questions when Alyssa leads him into the hardware store to buy a gallon of bright red paint, and he doesn’t ask questions when she cracks it open in an alleyway behind an empty bar in the middle of town-- the spot is filthy and hardly visible unless you’re a drug dealer, but that’s beside the point. There’s no way he just trusts her this much, so he must genuinely not care, and that’s a little disheartening. Still, he’ll cheer up once they get going, maybe.

Alyssa sheds her jacket and sticks her hair up into a ponytail. Carefully, she pinches the metal lid and peels it away from the paint bucket with as little mess as possible, before flinging it away like a frisbee. James watches her, still quiet.

“Okay!” says Alyssa, cheerily. And then she plunges hands into the paint, up her forearms. She's shocked by the cold for just a second, but then laughter bubbles up, and she is giggling like a little kid.

When she pulls up, red paint is dripping from her fingertips, and she holds her arms out in a slightly useless attempt to avoid making a mess of her clothes. She makes eye contact with James, who is watching her, a bit worried, a bit captivated. And then she raises both arms, smacking the wall, smearing red all over it.

“Ohhh, we’ll be in so much fucking trouble if we get caught,” she says gleefully. On the off-chance that someone comes back here, they might even get arrested. The thought only makes her grin wider.

She looks at James expectantly over her shoulder, her hands still at work. He hesitates, and for a moment she wonders if he’s going to back out and go home, but he tentatively places one palm on top of the red film and then presses it against the brick.

Alyssa rolls her eyes. “Come on!” she urges him.

He looks at her, eyebrows a bit raised, silently asking something akin to _are you sure?_ She keeps waiting, so he sticks his hand in more fully, and flicks it to splatter the paint.

“Yeah!” cheers Alyssa. She covers herself in more paint and splatters the wall. She does sort of a little dance, then, jumping up and down in a circle, waving her arms and shaking her head to really make the paint go everywhere. 

When she stops, James is actually-- _smiling_ at her, just a bit, but still. He puffs out one singular, breathy laugh, and puts both hands into the paint, this time. When they’re covered, he presses himself against the wall, hands up near his ears, and turns, sort of rolling across the wall, onto his back, then his front again--

“Wait!” Alyssa holds her hands out when he’s on his back, arms still up. “Don’t move.”

She puts her hands back into the paint and goes over to him. She starts to spread paint near his shoulder, begins to outline him. She tries to avoid his clothes, but a bit of red catches on the fuzz of his sweater anyway. He watches her as she reaches up to outline his hand, dips down to the rest of his body, back up to his other hand and then his head. Fuck, because paint definitely gets in his hair, then.

“Shit,” she murmurs, smiling, though. He exhales a tiny laugh through his nose, though he can’t know why, still watching her.

“Okay,” she utters, stepping back. James peels himself off the wall, turns to looks at it with her.

“Hm. It’s a bit shit,” says Alyssa.

“It’s fine,” says James.

Alyssa looks at him, smiling. She bites her lip, oddly charmed by all of this. He doesn’t notice, still looking at the paint.

She sticks herself against the wall next to James’s outline. “Do me, then,” she tells him, fingers splayed, arms straight, stuck out a bit from her sides.

James pauses, looking at her, then dips his fingers back into the paint. He starts near her shoulder and goes all around. He's too focused to look at her, but she looks at him-- there's a tiny bit of paint on his nose, and it's a lot easier to see his eyes up close, through his bangs. They are very, very blue. Alyssa hadn't even noticed.

When his hand gets near her ear, she turns her head away, reflexively avoiding it.

“No, you’ve got to keep it--” he touches the side of her face with his painting hand, gently tilting it back into position.

They both pause.

“Is there paint on my face, now?” Alyssa asks, holding back a bemused smile.

“Yeah, sorry,” utters James. “It’s kind of everywhere else, though, too.”

Alyssa raises her eyebrows at that, bursting into laughter. “My mum is gonna fucking piss herself.”

James quickly finishes the outline and they both step back.

“Right, then,” says Alyssa. With a swift kick, the paint bucket is knocked over. Bright red oozes across the pavement. “Do you want to get fries or something?”

  
  


The paint is all dried on her hair, her clothes, her face, _everywhere,_ by the time she arrives home, which _sucks_ because she really wanted to wipe it on one of Tony’s shirts or something. She scrapes a bit of the red out of her hair and crumbles it in the entryway, though, which makes a decent compromise.

Mum is home with the twins, but not Tony. Sounds like a mess, coming from the kitchen-- at least one of the babies is crying, and judging by mum’s frustrated murmuring, she doesn’t seem to be handling it.

“Tony?” Her voice rings out, hopeful.

“No,” calls back Alyssa, flat.

“Alyssa?” she’s confused, this time. Gwen appears in the hall, apron on, two baby spoons in her hand, brow furrowed. “What are you doing home? It’s not-- what time is it?”

Alyssa shrugs.

“What are you covered in?”

Alyssa frowns. Shrugs again.

Gwen shakes her head, blinks a few times. “Well, are you-- can you--”

“Yeah, whatever.” Alyssa rolls her eyes and brushes past her mum, into the kitchen, where one half of the twins is screaming her tiny head off.

“The hell did you do, smack her?” Alyssa asks over the noise, frowning. She lifts her sister out of her highchair and starts to bounce.

“Alyssa. That’s-- I don’t like that joke.”

Alyssa sighs through her nose. There’s drool and tears getting all over her. She lifts the little bowl from Liv’s highchair and peers into it, immediately scrunching her face up.

“Well that’s why she’s crying, you’re feeding her fucking soylent green!” she exclaims, putting the bowl back down and picking up one of the small green circles.

“They’re baby green puffs,” Gwen says defensively.

“Baby green puffs? _For_ babies or made _out of_ babies?”

Gwen marches over, plucking the-- the _puff_ from Alyssa’s fingers and chucking it back into the bowl. “I don’t appreciate this from you. Thomas likes them just fine.”

Alyssa looks to where her baby brother is sitting in his chair, happily gnawing one of the snacks.

She clicks her tongue. “Fucks sake Tommy, stop eating that, it’s _people.”_

“It’s _kale,”_ Gwen snaps.

Alyssa sighs, turning her attention back to her sister, who’s calmed down a bit, but she’s still fussing. “Has she napped?”

“She tried. Couldn’t sleep, though.”

“She needs to nap.”

“It’ll throw off her schedule--”

“She’s _tired,_ mum,” Alyssa insists. “Where’s her dummy?”

“Left it in the nursery,” Gwen mutters.

Alyssa, still with her sister clutched to her chest, heads off.

  
  


When Alyssa wakes up, it’s a bit darker out, and her neck is stiff from sleeping in the rocking chair. Liv is clutching her shirt with tiny baby fists, dummy half fallen out from her open mouth, little puffs coming out of her as she sleeps.

She feels a bit like crying. She doesn’t know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you said you'd never leave me, you said you'd never go](https://youtu.be/8mSG1ZdxvR0)
> 
> tw for forced cannibalism
> 
> not actually though ahaha can you imagine what a curveball that would be
> 
> the entire time I was writing this I was like "is it too soon for james to smile?? should he not be smiling yet" and I'm still insecure about that which is a little ridiculous but it's JAMES
> 
> also, I recommend doing something weird at least once. it's freeing. run around an empty parking lot or jump in a pool with all your clothes on. it's good.
> 
> weirdly enough my favorite parts to write are the parts with alyssa and liv. I didn't go into this fic like "I'm gonna make alyssa be friends with her sister" but it sort of just happened anyway and I like it
> 
> comments are appreciated a lot and they help me write faster because they make me go "oh there's people reading this, I'm gonna keep it going for them!!" and they are just very motivating and nice
> 
> alphabetingfic.tumblr.com if you want to ask a question or send me something or be friends or anything you want, I'm really nice so come on down to the town
> 
> thank you very much for reading


	5. 'Just Keep Kicking,' He Says

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James eat dinner with Phil. Diabetes is not an issue at this point. The physics of the Titanic movie are brought into question.

Existence is kind of a weird concept. People have a word for it, but it’s not something that’s very easy to wrap your head around. Well, maybe you can to an extent, maybe the thing you can’t comprehend is a _lack_ of it. Alyssa keeps to herself a lot-- well, that’s not new, but like, more than usual. She’s been avoiding her family more. Sneaking down to eat dinner after everyone else has gone to bed, sticking to her room. Practicing her absence, in a way. It’s comforting in a small way, just like-- like how pregnant people clean all the time right before the baby comes, Gwen had called it “nesting,” when she did it with the twins. Alyssa is getting ready. Making herself smaller, as small as she can before she disappears. When she’s alone, she exists a little less. No one can touch her or see her or talk to her, and that’s good.

When she’s with James, she exists a little more.

And. Well.

That _should_ be a bad thing.

The whole cutting-class-to-paint-a-wall thing was on Friday, and they don’t hang out over that weekend, so the next time Alyssa sees James is Monday at lunch. She sits down next to him in their usual spot, wordlessly slides her chocolate pudding cup over to him, kicks his ankle lightly.

That makes him look at her. Alyssa meets his eyes, and her blank expression breaks into a small, secretive smile. He doesn’t smile back, but he looks more alive than usual.

They eat their food and don’t talk to each other.

It’s okay.

It’s good.

  
  


They’re at James’s house watching Titanic, later, except it’s hard because Alyssa is having trouble holding her commentary for the end.

“‘Just keep kicking,’ he says, like the force of the ship wouldn’t just suck you right down, I mean, that’s just not physics,” she complains. She’s upside down on the sofa, sucker in one hand, waving her arms about to emphasize her point. James is staring pointedly at the TV.

“I think it’s just-- creative license. The movie would end too abruptly otherwise.”

“Well, it happened pretty abruptly in real life, didn’t it? Not everyone _did_ get to say goodbye,” she argues. “It’s abrupt when people die. But you _know,”_ she continues, “the one thing everyone complains about? About, ‘oh, she should’ve made room on the door for him, there was space.’ Like, did you not watch it? They tried that, and it sank. Just because there’s space doesn’t mean it’ll hold the weight. Also, if they took turns, they’d probably _both_ die.”

“Right,” says James.

Alyssa turns her head to look at him. “Do you cry at the end of this?”

“No,” says James.

“Me either. Never have. I mean, it’s sad, but.” She shrugs, sticks the lolly back in her mouth. But she quickly pops it back out to say, “See, that’s what I mean, all--” she gestures with the candy-- “of those people would be headed to the bottom of the ocean right now.”

“I thought you liked this movie.”

Alyssa frowns. “I do.”

She’s quiet for a little bit, through the “don’t let go” part, only crossing one arm over her middle and gesturing with her lolly like, _see?_ when the door sinks as they both try to get on top of it. Phil walks in after that.

“Hello!” he says, rapping his knuckles against the frame of the entryway. James and Alyssa turn their heads at the same time, Alyssa with the candy still in her mouth.

“Hope I’m not interrupting, ehm, Alyssa, have you decided if you’re staying or not?”

Alyssa take the lolly out of her mouth and frowns. “Staying?”

Phil looks at his son. “James, you were meant to ask her.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” asks James, deadpan.

“Oh.” Alyssa blinks. Why she’s a bit surprised, she doesn’t know. “What are you having?”

“Dunno.” Phil shrugs. “Probably order a pizza, if that’s alright?”

“Uh.” Alyssa sits up properly, swinging her legs over. She looks at James, trying to tell if he’d be fine with that or not, but she can’t really get a read. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Great!” Phil looks so fucking happy. “What toppings do you like?”

“Um, just like, the works, whatever," she says, still a little caught off-guard.

"Fine, then," says Phil, turning to his son, "and just plain for you, James?”

“Yeah,” says James.

“I’ll go and call,” says Phil.

They finish the movie, and Alyssa gets pissed when old lady Rose drops the necklace off the boat, even though she’s already seen it before. (“She could’ve just sold it.” “That wouldn’t be very dramatic, though.”)

It turns out Phil ordered three large pizzas, which arrive after about forty minutes, plus garlic bread and a liter of Diet Coke. It’s a bit overkill, like, it’s only three of them, but Alyssa tries not to judge other people about food.

They sit at the table with ceramic plates and mugs of soda and just go for it. James and his dad seem to be completely different— in every way, but it really shows in the way they eat. Phil scarfs down his food, gets sauce on his shirt and doesn’t seem to care, talks with food in his mouth and all that. James eats like he’s already full. He’s finished half a slice of pizza by the time Phil’s had two.

Phil is a very gracious host, too. He keeps offering Alyssa more bread and filling her cup with more soda. She doesn’t _hate_ it, so she keeps her mouth shut and takes it politely, because Phil is supposed to like her, trust her, at least enough to not be concerned when James is off with her for hours and hours, not returning his calls, not coming home even by nightfall, not ever--

Alyssa bites her tongue.

“You two met pretty recently, then?” asks Phil, nicely, grabbing another piece of garlic bread.

“...Yeah,” says Alyssa, glancing at James. He doesn’t look at her. “I’m new to the school.”

“Yeah?” Phil nods, sucks grease off his thumb. “Where’d you go before?”

“I was up north. Yorkshire.”

“Yorkshire! I knew a fella who grew up there. Wouldn’t stop reminding me.” Phil laughs. Alyssa narrows her eyes and takes a large bite of food, in hopes that he won’t address her while she’s chewing. He isn’t stopped.

“I thought it must be something like that, from your accent,” he says. “What brought you down here, then?”

“Mum’s boyfriend,” Alyssa murmurs, averting her eyes.

“Ah,” says Phil.

Alyssa holds her slice of pizza and chews. James is lifting a bit of cheese off of his slice to peer underneath, like there’d be a surprise toy, or something. It’s quiet.

“Yorkshire,” says Phil. “We’ve never been, have we, James?”

“We haven’t,” James answers flatly.

“Well, that’s.” He falters. “I’m sure it’s nice. We should go, take a few days off school and work, what do you say?”

“No thank you.”

“This pizza is really good,” Alyssa announces.

It’s average, actually. Phil smiles stiffly at her and nods.

“You guys should try more toppings. Stuff goes together better than you’d think.”

“Yeah?” says Phil.

“Yep,” Alyssa says, popping the ‘p’ and taking another bite. It’s so tense, you’d think they’d just had a massive fight or something.

Not that her family is any better. At least there’s babies to keep everyone distracted, though.

“Do you guys eat a lot of take out?” Alyssa is sort of grasping at straws here.

“We’re getting better about it,” says Phil, and then he laughs. “I’m not much of a chef, myself, but James cooks for us some nights. What would I do without him, eh?” He pats his son on the arm. James flinches.

“I didn’t know that.” Alyssa looks at James.

“He’s a modest one, but I’ll tell you, his dishes deserve a five star rating,” Phil says, also looking at James. He’s smiling proudly. A little sadly.

Alyssa looks down at her food.

“More bread?” Phil asks her, reaching for the tin.

“No thanks,” says Alyssa. He leans back.

James has a dad that really loves him. James likes to cook. James is going to kill himself soon, and Alyssa isn’t doing anything but encourage him.

Why did she stay for dinner? Why the hell did she agree to this?

“Well,” says Phil, patting his stomach and sitting back, “if the two of you are finished, you’re free to run off. I’ll do the washing up.”

“Okay,” says Alyssa. She stands up, probably too quick. “Come on, James.”

They head off together.

  
  


Things are a bit better after that, warmer, looser. They sit on the couch with fleece blankets and start another movie. Something shitty that James picked, Alyssa is only half paying attention. The sun is setting outside of those huge windows and she can hear the sound of running water from the kitchen, plates clinking, boxes rustling. James is leaning against the arm of the sofa, cheek pressed to his palm, absorbed in the TV with dull eyes.

She probably should’ve just gone home after dinner, but she doesn’t think she could handle that house, not now. She shifts. Sighs.

Eventually, Phil passes by, with a little wave and a “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” He heads up the stairs, and she hears a door close.

It’s getting darker out, and Alyssa kind of feels like falling asleep, except that would be embarrassing. So she says, “Do you have ice cream?”

James looks at her funny. “We just ate all that pizza.”

Alyssa raises an eyebrow. “So?”

“So we’ll get diabetes if we eat like that.”

Alyssa stares at him. James blinks in realization.

“Right, yeah,” he says.

They go to the kitchen. James pulls a massive tub of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer. Alyssa checks the fridge and pulls out the can of whipped cream.

“Where are your spoons?” she asks.

“I’ll get them.” James pulls out a drawer and grabs two spoons.

“Right. Let’s go,” Alyssa says, swiftly turning around to leave the kitchen.

“Um, where are we going?” James asks after her.

“The roof,” she calls behind her.

A couple of minutes later, they’re settled on James’s flat roof, blankets around their shoulders, giant tub of ice cream between them. Every time Alyssa has a spoonful, she replaces the dent with just a little too much whipped cream. Even with the blanket, the mixture of cold weather and ice cream is making her tremble a bit, but she doesn’t want to go in.

“Do you ever swim in your pool?” she asks around her spoon.

“When I was a kid,” says James.

“But not now?”

“Nah.”

Alyssa hums. “Wish I had a pool.”

The whipped cream is getting low. She takes the can and sprays some into her mouth. Laughs a bit, trying not to spill it. She holds the can up to James.

He hesitates. Tips his head toward her and opens his mouth. Alyssa presses the nozzle, smiling delightedly, and gives him a healthy amount before spraying the rest onto the ice cream.

Alyssa sighs and sticks her spoon in the ice cream. She lies down on her blanket, wrapping the edges more tightly around herself.

“You cook,” she states.

“Sometimes.”

“Are you actually good at it?”

James shrugs. He’s looking over the treeline, and from her position, she can only see about a quarter of his face. “I do alright,” he says.

“I don’t think I could cook for shit,” says Alyssa. “I don’t really try, though. I know my mum’s no good.” She laughs. “Lately she’s obsessed with trying to make, like, health food for babies. My sister hates it. Makes her cry.”

“You have a sister?”

“Brother, too.”

“Oh.” James swallows. He kind of does that a lot. “How old are they?”

Alyssa pauses. “Eight months. Both of them.”

James nods.

“Too young to remember me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

James looks at her, a bit startled. “I-- no. That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine,” Alyssa mutters, a bit irritated, suddenly. James looks away.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Why?”

James falters. “It’s just-- that they won’t ever--”

Alyssa frowns. “I don’t _care,_ James. It’s better that way.”

“But aren’t you a bit--”

Alyssa sits up. Her oxygen supply feels like it's slowly dwindling. “Can we talk about something else, please?” she asks pointedly.

James closes his mouth. He watches her for a moment, and then he nods.

“Yeah,” he says softly.

Alyssa huffs, laying her head on her knees.

“I don’t have any siblings,” says James, quietly flailing to change the subject.

“That’s good for you.”

Neither of them speak for a moment. Alyssa is freezing. She tugs her blanket over her head and then onto her front.

“Do you want to go inside?” asks James, at the same time Alyssa asks, “Shall we TP your house?”

“What?” says James.

“It’s on the bucket list?" she reminds him. "Well, not to TP _your_ house, just any, but why not yours?”

James falters, staring straight ahead of himself. “I-- okay.”

“Okay,” says Alyssa, “but not now. Meet me outside here at four in the morning.”

“Right, sure,” says James, staring at her as she gets up and rewraps the blanket around herself. “Is that-- are you leaving?”

“Yeah. I have to get up early.” she tells him.

James hesitates. “Okay.”

“See you in a few hours.”

"Right."

Alyssa goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [in five years time we could be walking around a zoo, with the sun shining down over me and you](https://youtu.be/8djQEYvLdQ8)
> 
> [alternatively](https://youtu.be/Siz-xBfIqpg)
> 
> I know the babies we got a glimpse of in episode one are probably closer to five or six months but bear with me, I already had them sitting up and banging toys together so it's too late to go back
> 
> sorry I broke my unofficial update schedule, it's because I was playing sims
> 
> what else uhhh idk
> 
> OH YEAH AND idk if you guys actually check out the songs at the end but if you do, I wanted to say I recommend listening only after you actually finish the chapter because they're kinda like? end credits music? I might put songs in the beginning notes sometimes for you to listen to while you read though
> 
> comments are my will to live! just kidding but I love them and they make me write faster sooo
> 
> I'm alphabetingfic.tumblr.com and I love new friends if you want to message me, also I post updates there for this fic


	6. Color Into a Dead Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James vandalize Phil's property. Tony behaves inappropriately. Also, he is sick of porridge. Alyssa stares at her sister's little baby face and thinks about impending doom.

Alyssa wonders how she must look from an outsider’s perspective, right now. It’s like, almost four in the morning, she’s got her leggings on, bags of exhaustion under her eyes, and she’s swinging a grocery bag full of toilet paper rolls in her fist. She thinks, if she saw that, she’d be pretty impressed at the kind of life that person was living. No cares. Just toilet paper and a clear purpose.

Her whole body feels kind of warm and tingly, in the way that bodies sometimes do when they are awake during hours they should not be awake for. Her hair is tangled and her breath is making little clouds in the air. When she gets to James’s house, he’s sitting on the front step with a single roll of toilet paper beside him. Alyssa rolls her eyes. Thank god she brought plenty.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

James looks up at her, surprised, like she’s jolted him out of a daydream. “Hey,” he says, picking up the toilet paper and standing. He looks down at it and holds it awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He’s wearing sweatpants, stuffed into yellow rainboots, and a dark hoodie. It’s sort of cute. Alyssa smiles and sets her bag down, picks up a roll in each hand.

“Shall we?”

James, thin and angular inside his clothes, nods.

  
  


After ten minutes of trying _everything--_ tossing the toilet paper over the roof, trying to hold one end down, tossing it back and forth, just plain chucking it-- the only thing they can really do to make this work is drape it over things themselves, which is pathetic.

“Shall we try kicking it?” asks James. He’s tossing a roll back and forth between his hands, still looking hopeful.

Alyssa groans and sits on the step. “It’s useless,” she complains. “How the hell do people do this in movies?”

“We could look up a tutorial,” suggests James.

“Nah. It wouldn’t be cool anymore, then.” Alyssa frowns and kicks a rock. James sets down the roll and sits beside her.

“What are we gonna do with all this toilet paper?” she cries.

“I mean, it is-- toilet paper. There’s an intended purpose,” James points out.

Alyssa huffs and ducks her head into her hands. She can feel James watching her.

“This is so embarrassing,” she mutters.

“It’s fine,” James assures her.

“Lucky for your dad at least. Or, _wait.”_ She pops her head up, eyes glinting. “Have you got eggs?”

James pauses. “I-- well, but won’t he put two and two together when the eggs are all gone from our fridge?”

Alyssa shrugs. “Probably.”

James pauses. He seems to struggle with himself a bit.

“...Okay,” he says.

Alyssa grins.

  
  


They get a carton each. A bunch of eggs are missing from James’s, so Alyssa gives him a few from hers to make them even.

“We need to be quiet,” she tells him, matter of factly, as they stand side-by-side, facing the front of the house.

“Right,” says James.

“And don’t hit the car. Or windows.”

James nods.

“Do you want to throw first, or me?” asks Alyssa, looking at him. “It’s your house, so you pick.”

James looks down at the carton in his hands and shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Same time, then.” Alyssa picks one of the eggs from her carton and holds it up, grinning gleefully at him. “Ready?”

James takes a deep breath and grabs an egg. “Ready.”

“Throw hard.” Alyssa shifts her grip, biting her lip. “Three, two, one, _throw!”_

Two eggs splatter against the front of the house. Alyssa’s inside do a little flip and she laughs, loud and delighted. James grabs her arm and shushes her, but he’s smiling a little bit, too.

“Sorry, fuck.” Alyssa giggles. She takes another egg. “Again,” she says.

She nearly hits a window with that one. They’re kind of hard to avoid on a house like this. It’s pretty loud, and James flinches.

“Is this a bad idea?” he asks.

“Do you think it is?” Alyssa grabs another egg and gets ready to throw.

James hesitates, picking up an egg and tossing it a bit in his hand. He throws it suddenly, and it splats on the brick.

“No,” he says.

Alyssa grins. It goes like this until she begins to run low, and then she peers over at James's carton.

"How many have you--?"

A light goes on upstairs in the middle of her question. They both freeze and look at it, deer-in-the-headlights style.

 _“Shit,”_ Alyssa hisses. James says it at the same time, but with less enthusiasm. She grabs his arm and pulls him round to the side of the house, quick, but keeping low. She keeps her death grip on his elbow even as they crouch down against the brick.

“He won’t see us unless he actually comes out,” she whispers. Her heart is pounding. “We’re both dressed dark. Oh-- put your--”

She yanks James’s hood over his head, being probably a little more rough with him then necessary, but that’s the adrenaline.

“And,” she continues, “the light was really dim, so it’s probably just his lamp, I don’t think he’ll--”

“Alyssa.” James lays a hand on her knee. She catches his eye, though it’s hard to see, between the hoodie and his bangs. They’re wide. Glinting a bit. “Don’t talk.”

“Right.” She nods, ducks her head, tries to stay silent.

They sit together like that for a few moments, breathing ragged, egg cartons clutched against them like weapons, just waiting for Phil to come out with a baseball bat or something and start shouting, or like. Running around in his robe and slippers looking for them.

A wave of laughter rises up suddenly at that image. Alyssa purses her lips and hides her face in her knees, shaking a bit. James’s arm is sort of linked with hers, and he tightens his hold. She looks at him, and their knees keep knocking together, and he is looking anywhere but at her, trying to hold it in as well.

“Worth it, though,” she utters, grinning, voice hoarse from trying to keep it down.

They stay like that for another five minutes at least before Alyssa decides to peer back around the corner. She looks back at him, mouth twisted up, suppressing a smile. “I think we’re good,” she whispers. The lights are all out, and Phil is not standing there with his arms crossed, or with a weapon.

They stand there silently, then, facing one another, a little embarrassed at how carried away they'd gotten. 

“Probably better this way,” she says. “You can put the rest back in the fridge and maybe he won’t know it was us.”

“Yeah,” says James. He seems disappointed, unless that’s her imagination.

“Guess I should go.” Alyssa sticks her egg carton on top of the one James is already carrying and gives him a slightly disappointed half-smile. He half-smiles back.

“Actually, wait,” says Alyssa. She reopens her carton and take out one last egg, throwing it on the ground and stomping it with her boot. It crunches. “Okay. Yeah.” She closes the carton back up and takes a step back.

“Be careful going back in,” she tells him.

“I will,” says James.

Alyssa picks up her bag of toilet paper. “Bye,” she says, giving him an awkward little wave.

“Bye,” says James, waving awkwardly back.

Alyssa goes home. It was a mission _kind_ of success, well, they had fun anyway. And Phil’ll still have something to clean, and they won’t get in trouble, probably, and mum won’t be freaking out about where all the toilet paper’s gone. So maybe this is the best way it could’ve gone, really.

And James had been happy. Being around him lately is like watching one of those time-lapse videos of molding food in reverse. Color coming back into a dead thing, soul slipping back into the eyes. Not all the time, but sometimes. And it’s nice.

If their situation was different, they might even be friends.

  
  


“You aren’t sick, are you?” asks Gwen, turning down the heat on the stove and wiping up a mess of brown sugar before heading over to feel Alyssa’s forehead with the back of her hand. All this while balancing a baby on her hip. Alyssa might have a strained relationship with her mum, but she’ll give it to her that she knows how to multitask.

“M’not,” she grumbles, batting the hand away. “Stop it.”

Alyssa hadn’t really slept after getting home, and it’s seven in the morning now. Every time she catches her own reflection, she surprises herself to the point of wanting to laugh a bit, just because-- well, look at her. Pale skin, mussed up hair, bruises under her eyes. Like she’s terminally ill or something.

Gwen frowns. She heads back to the stove and stirs the porridge. They eat a lot of porridge, lately, just because it’s something everyone can have, babies included. Alyssa found avocado in hers, once. Gwen had claimed that it was meant for one of the twins, that she hadn’t been paying attention, that it was just baby food, but Alyssa can’t really imagine feeding that to a baby, even.

Alyssa jolts out of it when a steaming bowl of porridge slides onto the table in front of her. Gwen sits across from her, frowning even more with concern. Tommy’s beginning to cry after being put down in his highchair, but Gwen’s attention stays on Alyssa.

“Sweetheart, do you need to stay home today?”

 _‘Sweetheart.’_ Gwen gets like this when Alyssa’s sick. It’d be nice if she weren’t so-- so detached the rest of the time, but she is, so it’s just frustrating when she plays nice like this.

“Who’ll be here?” Alyssa asks, considering it. She lifts a bit of porridge with her spoon, and watches as it plops back down into the bowl. Gwen shifts.

“Well I-- I’ll be busy today, Thomas and Olivia both have doctor’s appointments and there’s errands to be run, but maybe I could ask Tony to--”

“I’ll chance it,” Alyssa decides immediately.

Gwen frowns, but Tony walks in before she has a chance to reply. “What’s this about me?” he asks.

It seems like that smirk never leaves his face. It’s ever present. Freaking omnipotent. Has a mind of its own. Tony strides in with his pajamas on, eyebrows raised questioningly, but looking so damn confident, like he is in total control of everyone here and he knows it.

Alyssa glares at her breakfast.

Gwen sort of sighs a bit. She nudges the cinnamon towards Alyssa before turning to greet her husband.

“Morning, love.” She stands up, kisses his cheek. “Alyssa isn’t feeling well.”

Tony looks at Alyssa, who is still looking into her bowl. “Jesus. I can see that.”

Alyssa’s expression sours. Tony strides over and grips her shoulder.

“Rough night, honey? Hungover, are you?”

Alyssa jerks, forcing him off of her. “Fuck off.”

“Alyssa,” Gwen snaps, “the children.”

“What, so he’s allowed to harass me but I can’t say fuck?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tony says. “Teenagers, eh?” He tries to share a look with Gwen, but she just glances away and busies herself with handling her son.

“What have we got?” Tony leans over the stove. Sneers a bit. “Porridge, again?”

“I’ll make crepes tomorrow,” Gwen assures him.

“Hm.” Tony gets himself a coffee and then sits down at the center of the small kitchen table, between the twins. He leans back and crosses one leg over the other.

“You aren’t hungry?” asks Gwen, glancing at him as she’s feeding Tommy.

“I’ll go for a bagel later.” Tony sips his coffee.

Alyssa eats a spoonful of porridge, then glances up as Liv gurgles and smacks her tray. She scoops some porridge out of Liv’s little plastic bowl and sticks it into her sister’s mouth, but Liv just scowls and allows it all to run out down her chin. Alyssa sighs, wipes it up, and reaches for the maple syrup.

“Alyssa.”

Alyssa looks up. Gwen is watching her disapprovingly.

“She’s too young. She can have it plain,” Gwen tells her.

“She doesn’t _like_ it plain,” Alyssa argues flatly.

“We can’t have her hooked on sweet things so young.”

Alyssa frowns. “It’s maple syrup, not heroin.”

Gwen raises an eyebrow and Alyssa sighs. She squeezes the syrup into her own bowl and mixes it around. When no one is looking, she dips Liv’s little baby spoon into her own food and then sticks the syrupy stuff into her sister’s mouth. Liv takes it happily. Alyssa eats a bit of Liv’s porridge to make it even.

Her conversation with James, from the previous evening, sort of hits her, then.

_How old are they?_

_Eight months. Both of them. Too young to remember me, if that’s what you’re asking._

Alyssa freezes.

 _Sorry,_ he’d said.

_Why?_

Liv stares at her. She always stares at her. She always smiles when Alyssa enters the room, which of course she does. Alyssa is her big sister.

_It’s just-- that they won’t ever--_

_I don’t_ care, _James. It’s better that way._

In a year or two, though, she’ll be a stranger in a photograph.

It’s not the type of sadness that makes her want to run crying, but it sits heavy on top of her chest. It makes her not want to eat anymore. It makes her want to keep her eyes locked with her sister’s and never look away.

Liv reaches for the porridge.

It hurts, but it’s better. It’s better. Everything is going to be better.

Alyssa checks to see that everyone else is occupied and distracted, and then she feeds Liv more syrup-porridge. Wipes some off her cheek and sighs.

  
  


James is already sitting in their spot when Alyssa arrives. You wouldn’t know he’d hardly slept, except for the dark skin under his eyes. He sips his drink, back straight, eyes shifting as usual. Alyssa doesn’t mean to smile when she spots him, but she can’t help it. So she does. Just a little.

It’s still the rush from before.

She sits down next to him, quick and bold as she slides into her seat and drops down her tray of food. He’s stopped flinching when she does that, which feels like progress.

“Was you dad mad?” she asks, watching him with one elbow propped on the table, anticipating.

James takes a long sip from his drink, looking ahead of himself, and his lips have got a slight upwards quirk.

“Yeah,” he says, finally, putting his drink down. He looks right pleased.

Alyssa grins and hands over her dessert. “Cool.”

They're sharing this. It feels good to experience the same things as him. To feel the same way. It's not something that Alyssa's ever really had before, and she likes it. Even if it's-- a little bit. Messy, all of this.

It's good. It'll be good for the next month. It's going to be a good month.

Yeah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rejoice despite the fact this world will kill you](https://youtu.be/c0cxrA3dTv4)
> 
> ugh I am american so I want to say oatmeal but nooo
> 
> for the record I doubt Phil really was mad, he was probably just like "oh, you kids nowadays" but also kinda distressed. I'm so awful to him and he really doesn't deserve it
> 
> next chapter should be kinda interesting I think so watch out for that? what else
> 
> if you leave a comment my day will be brighter
> 
> alphabetingfic.tumblr.com, come on over
> 
> have a great day


	7. Spilling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James babysit, together. Alyssa plays the Try Not to Kill Yourself game-- it's like, the difficulty level of chess, with the added physical exertion and heart-thumping anxiety of flashlight tag. James holds a baby for the first time. Things go well until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if a tw is really necessary but I'll stick one at the end just in case because this one is a bit :(

“Can I come to your house?” asks James, at lunch, on Tuesday. It’s kind of an alarming thing to hear, considering.

Alyssa’s mind conjures an image of her and James, standing in Alyssa’s kitchen. Gwen is carrying two screaming babies, Tony touching some part of Alyssa’s body, and James is looking at her with pity in his eyes and saying, _sorry, you have to find someone else to kill yourself with._ He leaves and the weight is tied to her ankle again and the bathroom is filling with water and--

Alyssa blinks and the image goes away, like switching the channel on the telly.

“No,” she scowls, “why would you want to do that?”

James fidgets. His eyes dart. “My dad was asking about it. He’s wondering why I’m never there.”

Fuck.

“I told him I had plans to.”

_Fuck._

Alyssa’s hands go to her cup of water. She doesn’t drink it. She just needs something to hold onto.

Her eyes close. “Why would you do that?”

James doesn’t respond for a moment. “I didn’t really-- think about it. I didn’t realize it mattered.”

Alyssa feels like tossing the water all over herself. It takes a surprising amount of self-control not to. “When?”

“Hm?”

Alyssa opens her eyes. “When are you coming? Did you say?”

James is playing with his sleeves again. “Tomorrow.”

“Everyone will be home tomorrow.”

“Oh,” says James. He hesitates, opens his mouth. “Is that bad?”

“Yes,” says Alyssa.

“How bad?”

“Pretty bad,” Alyssa says, despondent acceptance tilting her voice upwards. James nods.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Nudges her ankle with his foot. And Alyssa looks at him, the ends of his sleeves which have been pulled fraught after ages of messing with them, the bangs dusting his eyelids, the awkward guilt that colors his features. She wants to take him and-- go on a really long road trip. Hold his hand. Alyssa sighs.

He’s real. He’s so real. That house is-- not for him. Those two worlds should not collide.

“Whatever.” She sticks a spoonful of vegetable medley into her mouth and then regrets doing that.

The rest of lunch is quiet. James keeps looking at her out the corner of his eye. He slides her fruit cup over to her.

She leaves early.

  
  


It’s not until she mentions to her mother, about James coming over, and Gwen’s eyebrows raise all the way up and her lips part, that Alyssa realizes-- she doesn’t. Do this. Have people over. Like, ever. The last time was probably in middle school. Like, she’s been to James’s a few times, obviously, and she goes out, but she’s never had people coming over here, not to this house.

“Oh,” says Gwen, with this terrible, embarrassing surprise in her voice. “Okay.”

“He’s the boy I mentioned before,” says Alyssa, tightly. “James.”

“James?” Gwen frowns. “You never mentioned a James, did you?”

“Yeah.” Alyssa digs her thumb nail into the tip of her index finger. “I-- I did.”

“Alright.” Gwen glances down at her magazine, then back at Alyssa. She seems surprised, after a moment, that Alyssa is still standing there.

Alyssa doesn’t know why she’s still there, either. She blinks. Turns around to leave.

“Alyssa?”

Alyssa turns back. “What?”

Gwen’s lips are pursed. “Well, it’s good that you-- I think it’s nice. You having a friend over. I’m glad.”

Alyssa sort of stops. Blinks.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that statement.

“Okay,” she says.

Gwen smiles a little painfully. Alyssa leaves.

  
  


Tony makes a comment about it later. It’s just, like, typical shit from him, but this time it sizzles and it burns. He says-- whatever, something about _never thought I’d see the day_ and laughs grossly, and Gwen pretends she was too busy to hear it, and Alyssa stands up and says “I hope you die,” and goes to her room.

She doesn’t want James to come here.

  
  


Alyssa wakes up tired the next morning. There’s a tennis ball sized pit in her stomach, and it seems to be dragging her whole body and brain down with it. It’s the kind of day she’ll have to actively Not Kill Herself, which is always fun.

This had to happen, right, like, it’s been a good couple of days, so something terrible was bound to happen. It’s like karma. There’s gotta be balance. The switch always flips. The boomerang comes back to smack you in the forehead, just as you’re standing there, squinting, looking for it in the distance.

And then it comes back-- well, it was always there, but it grows a bit, the whole suicide thing. It settles into her stomach, cozy and comfortable, the idea of climbing into a warm bathtub and falling asleep. Staying that way. And then she has to shake herself out of it, and eat breakfast with her family, and go to school like a normal, functioning person, and it’s just-- bad. Alyssa is tired.

James seems to notice, too. His eyebrows tilt in surprise when she joins him at their lunch table. He quickly covers it up, but it’s too late, she already saw.

“Hi,” she says, slumping into her chair. Her elbows are out, sharp and bony and defensive, as she clutches either side of her tray.

“Hi,” says James.

Alyssa sticks her sugar cookie onto his tray, efficient and purposeful, and then she begins peeling her clementine. James is looking at her. She can tell he wants to say something, except, he won’t unless she does first. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, stuck in a limbo. Alyssa rolls her eyes.

“Okay, what?” she asks sharply, putting down her fruit and looking him in the face.

“Sorry,” James says, shaking his head. “It’s just-- is it that bad? Your family?”

Alyssa’s mouth twists. She gestures outwards with a piece of orange peel. “Yeah? It’s like I told you yesterday?”

“Right, but.” James looks down at his tray, struggling.

She thinks he’s given up after a few more moments go by in quiet, and she’s alright with that. She goes back to her orange.

“I wouldn’t judge you, you know,” says James, suddenly, a little louder than before. His eyes move across Alyssa’s face, like he’s trying to read something there. Trying to assess her reaction.

Looking at him becomes too difficult, then.

Alyssa’s eyes drop to the tabletop. She tries to think of a word for the way-- the whole part of her head that’s meant to react appropriately to things keeps sputtering and dying, like a broken engine, or a bird exhausting itself as it tries again and again to escape a cage.

Bad. This is a bad day. She shouldn’t be around other people today. She-- she’ll say something mean by accident, or. Burst into tears at a really inconvenient time.

“I know,” she says, rather than any of that mess.

James kicks her ankle lightly. She glances at him. He’s got a small, reassuring smile on for her, a little unsure of himself, but he’s trying.

She shifts her mouth into something similar and goes on picking at her clementine.

  
  


James is already waiting for her at the front of the school when Alyssa shows up, which is somehow reassuring. He’s got a bottle of soda, which he holds out to her when he sees her, silent, smiling apprehensively.

Alyssa blinks.

“Sure,” she says, “thanks.”

They head down the street, side by side, wading through crowds of teenagers until they make it far enough away from the school that they are able to speak without raising their voices. Not that they do, necessarily. Alyssa unscrews the cap on her soda bottle and takes a small sip. It’s lukewarm and fizzy and too sweet, and it feels wrong going down. Alyssa doesn’t want soda today. Or food. She wants to melt into the pavement and come out the other end of the earth.

She quietly passes the bottle to James, instead. It’s one of those days she-- she has to breathe consciously or she’ll forget. She walks like she’s on stilts, hyper-aware of every step she takes, and there’s something a little bit wrong about it. _Yeah, just put your left heel first, then lift your right foot and switch--_

James tries to hand the bottle back to her.

“No thanks,” she mumbles.

The bottle goes away. A moment later, she hears a streaming sound against the pavement, and looks over to see James pouring the bottle out in a steady line as they walk. It’s splashing against their shoes a bit. Alyssa watches quietly.

Sometimes a bad thing happens and it sets everything off, even if it’s small. It spirals until the whole world tilts over and knocks Alyssa off of it, and that’s when she remembers _oh yeah, this is how it goes._ And that’s when she stops eating and brushing her teeth and cutting her nails, and that’s when she does creative and productive things like fill up the bathtub and cut her palm up with a razor blade. That’s how this day is going.

When they make it to her street, Alyssa stops walking and lets out her breath in a long, steady string of air. James keeps walking for a moment, but then pauses and looks back at her, patient and still.

Alyssa walks up next to him. Slips her scarred hand into his burnt one. He’s surprised for a moment, looking down at their hands, lips parting. And then he closes his mouth and squeezes.

He gets it, maybe.

They keep walking. The sun is behind them, and it casts long, overlapping shadows against the pavement in front of them. When they’re together facing Alyssa’s house, they stop.

“Let’s--” Alyssa stops, because her voice comes out weird. She clears her throat. “Let’s just get upstairs as quickly as possible. Don’t announce us or anything.”

“Okay,” says James, politely not pointing out that she's crazy to think he ever would do something like that. She really does appreciate it.

That’s that, then. Into the fire. Blindfolded. Alyssa lets go of his hand and subsequently feels cold. She opens the door quietly and they head in, ready to make a break for the stairs.

Except, Gwen seems to have been ready for that as well.

“Alyssa,” she calls, appearing suddenly in the entryway between the living room and the hall, almost like she’d materialized from thin air. “I need you to-- oh.”

James raises a hand in greeting. Gwen blinks at him, face like she’s staring at a ghost, or something.

“I forgot,” she says.

Alyssa feels like she’s going to implode.

“I’m James,” says James. His voice is perfectly neutral, but Alyssa can glance at his expression and she can tell, he’s teetering with one foot on either end of a see-saw, trying to keep his balance. Trying not to slip, rocking dangerously between ‘be polite’ and ‘interact as little as possible.’

Alyssa knocks their knuckles together and thinks, _right on, James._

Gwen stands up straight. “Hello,” she says, still surprised. “Are you-- um, Alyssa, I was going to ask you to watch the twins. Is he--”

“Yeah, whatever, mum,” says Alyssa.

One of the babies shouts from the other room. The sound seems to startle James.

Gwen turns to the kids, then turns back. “Right,” she says, “bottles in the fridge. They’ve just woken up from a nap, so I need you to change them. Tony should be back in an hour.”

“Sure,” says Alyssa, flatly.

Gwen gives one last glance to James, lips pursed, then goes off in search of her things.

“Come on,” says Alyssa, grabbing James’s hand and taking him to the living room. The twins are both sitting there, looking stupidly up at the new person. James swallows nervously.

Alyssa goes straight for Liv, scooping her up and cuddling her. It helps her calm down. She’s kind of like a shock blanket or something. Maybe this is how it is for babies when they’ve got their dummies in.

“Go on,” says Alyssa to James, swaying slightly with her sister. “You won’t hurt them. Have you ever held a baby?”

“No,” says James.

“Well-- just give him your finger to hold or something. They aren’t as fragile as you think, actually.”

James kneels down in front of Thomas, holding eye contact with him, quiet. He holds out his index finger and Tommy grabs on, jostling, cooing. James swallows and looks at Alyssa.

“What’s he gonna do?” James asks, nervous.

“I dunno. Bite you?”

James yanks his finger back, startled. Except, when he looks at Alyssa, she’s cracking a smile.

“Oh,” he murmurs, more of a noise than a word, as he realizes she’s joking. He smiles a bit, too.

  
  


When both babies are changed, Alyssa sets them back down with their toys and leans back on the sofa next to James. They sit, watching the kids smack their blocks and gurgle, and Alyssa sighs, feeling a little less like she’s stuck between the sky and the ground. James looks less uncomfortable, now, too. Like, still uncomfortable, but like he’s bearing it, now. 

“You brought this on yourself, you know,” Alyssa tells him.

“I don’t mind it,” says James, even though he clearly does.

Alyssa reaches for her sister and lifts her onto her lap. “You’ve really never held a baby?”

James hesitates, shakes his head. “Not that I remember,” he says.

Alyssa holds Liv up, kind of dangles her, eyebrows raised. “Do you want to?”

James falters. “I don’t-- I don’t really think I know how.”

“Well, it’s not hard,” Alyssa states. “Have you ever held a cat or a dog or something?”

James’s eyes shift a bit. “Yes,” he says.

“It’s like that, kind of. I dunno. Just-- here.” Alyssa thrusts the baby into his arms, which are not ready. James flounders to grab her, clutching her underarms, a bit frantic.

“Yeah, there you go,” Alyssa encourages him. “Just set her on your lap and keep holding her like that.”

James does that. “Okay,” he says, unsure, looking to Alyssa for help.

Alyssa shrugs. “That’s it, really. Give her back to me if you hate it.”

James looks down at Liv, stares at her chubby face. “I don’t,” he murmurs.

They’re quiet for a bit. Alyssa watches James watching Liv. He isn’t smiling, but his face looks alive, again. It’s like that more and more often now.

“You could bounce her a bit, if you want. She likes that.”

James looks at Alyssa, questioning, and then back to Liv. He bounces her gently on his leg, and Liv smiles. James smiles a bit, too.

And Alyssa is okay.

  
  


Except, Tony comes home to fuck it all up, then.

The front door opens and closes as Alyssa is feeding Thomas, and James is quietly playing with Liv, holding her up above his face and making tiny, quiet rocket noises with puffed up cheeks.

Alyssa curls right inward, and the tennis ball feeling settles back into her stomach again.

“Shit,” she murmurs.

James looks at her, questioning. He sits up with Liv, holds her back to his middle and faces the entryway just as Tony appears, toeing his shoes off and surveying the room.

“Hiya,” he says, nudging his shoes to the side. He glances between Alyssa and James, with that stupid look on his face, those sneering lips. He looks like a muppet. Honestly.

“Hi,” says James, quiet, clearly not sure what he’s supposed to do here, or say.

Tony looks him up and down and leans against the entry frame, crossing his ankles, one grey sock over the other. “You her boyfriend?” he asks bluntly.

“No,” answers Alyssa, before James even has time to respond, sharp and pointed.

Tony raises both hands in mock surrender before he strides over and sticks himself on the sofa between the two. His own thigh is touching Alyssa’s. She doesn’t really have room to scoot away from him, but she tries, swallowing her discomfort, keeping her eyes on the floor in front of her. She wishes she weren’t frozen in place, suddenly. Or-- she’s not really frozen, just-- weighted. There’s a difference. Weighted is those nightmares where-- when you’re being chased, and you’re trying to run, but everything is so fast around you, and you’re so slow--

“It’s quite surprising, really,” Tony says, cutting through her thoughts like-- like a knife cutting through food and then scratching against the plate underneath, making that shrill, screeching sound, as it does. “Alyssa’s alone in her room more than half the time, I never expected she _had_ friends even to bring over.”

“Oh,” says James. There’s really nothing else to say, not to a comment like that.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if my wife’s paying you to come over,” Tony chuckles. "Wouldn't put it past her."

He pats Alyssa’s thigh, and it’s disguised as fondness, but his hand lingers there, just under her waistline. She feels like she is spilling.

Alyssa doesn’t dare even look at James. She shoves her baby brother into his father’s arms and stands up abruptly.

“Come on, James.” She doesn’t mean for that to come out so quiet and murmuring, but it does. She steals a glance from him as she plucks Liv from his arms, and his eyes are round, tentatively worried. Alyssa sticks her sister on the floor and takes James by the arm, drags him along with her up the stairs, away from Tony as he cries after them, “Oh, don’t go, I was only joking!”

They head into Alyssa’s room, and she doesn’t quite slam the door after them, but she closes it sharply.

“He’s trying to scare you away because he hates me,” she tells James matter-of-factly, back and palms still pressed against the door.

James looks for something to say, mouth forming the beginnings of different words, but he can’t seem to pick one.

“Just ignore him,” she tells him, a bit desperate, “please.”

“Does he always touch you like that?” James blurts suddenly.

Alyssa shuts her eyes, twists off the faucet, blocks out the water. “Don’t ask questions like that.”

James is silent. When her eyes open again, he is watching her, frowning. And Alyssa realizes, as rare as it is to see James smile, it is equally rare to see him frown.

She _hates_ it.

 _“Ignore_ him, James,” she insists. “It doesn’t-- it won’t matter soon. Okay? After we-- it won’t matter.”

“But he--”

 _“Stop,”_ she demands, clutching her hair near her ears. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, James. I really don’t.”

James stares at her unhappily. If he doesn’t stop looking at her like that, she’s gonna--

“Okay,” he says finally. “Okay.”

They watch one another for a moment longer, then Alyssa drops her hands and heads over to sit on her bed. She sighs and pats the space next to her.

James sits down beside her without hesitation. There’s a loaded bit of silence, for a while.

“Your siblings are cute,” James murmurs, glancing down at his hand next to hers. He kicks her ankle, reaching out, trying.

Alyssa holds her gaze against the opposite wall. She kicks back, but her heart's not in it. “Yeah,” she responds, low and drawn out.

They don’t talk anymore after that, not for a while. Eventually, James leaves, and Alyssa lets him go even though she really doesn’t want him to. She lies back on her bed and it’s-- it’s _embarrassing,_ Tony saying all that shit, because it’d be one thing if-- if James were actually her friend, right, but he’s _not._ Not only is Tony being an asshole, but he’s right. Alyssa doesn’t have friends. The closest thing she’s got to a friend is a suicide partner.

And it _doesn’t_ matter. Because, well, there you have it, right in the name, _suicide_ partner, James isn’t meant to be her friend, and neither is anyone else, at this point. But it still hurts, beyond having to admit that Tony isn’t wrong when he fucks with her, it stings unbelievably.

Alyssa can feel the tug in her chest, like someone is pulling a rope up and down to ring a bell, can hear the little ghost in her brain shouting how things will always be like this, how everything has always been wrong from the get-go, it’s inevitable, it’s inevitable. The scars don’t go away until you rot. If anyone is going to be dead at seventeen, it’s you.

The sky isn’t black, but the sun has already set and it’s dark enough to make the entire bedroom into a shadow. Alyssa falls asleep in her clothes before Gwen even makes it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [when the zeroes line up on the twenty four hour clock](https://youtu.be/R7A1mIdiheE)
> 
> tw for: alyssa anticipates something that sets her in a depressive state. the suicide talk is a little more intense than usual. tony insults alyssa and touches her inappropriately in front of james.
> 
> ahaha I'm worried the chapter summary implies that something bad happens to one of the babies. no james does not drop a baby, nor does he hurt either of them in any way, the babies are fine, it's a false alarm. sorry if you thought that lol
> 
> I'm conflicted about the song choice, I was gonna do it because I like the vibe, and then I wasn't because the lyrics don't fit, and then I kept coming back to it so I'm just gonna use it and change it later if it isn't working. let me know what you think
> 
> HEY THANK YOU TO JULIA she's juliasaint on a03 and she did a really lovely job beta-ing this chapter, she's also got a really great teotfw one-shot [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21926398) called 'i got me someone else instead' and I wholly recommend it if you haven't already seen it and are starved for more teotfw content
> 
> as always comments are very motivating and super appreciated
> 
> I'm alphabetingfic.tumblr.com if you feel like chatting or anything
> 
> thank you thank you thank you!


	8. Mommy Fuel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James share lunch in the auditorium. Gwen is a little less perfect and a little more human before her coffee. Some teacher is gonna find those crumbs and that crisps bag and lose their shit, probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw at the end just to be on the safe side

It’s morning when Alyssa wakes up, and she’s all stiff and sweaty from sleeping in jeans and a bra, and her stomach feels a little bit sick. Blearily, she blinks her eyes open, presses down hard against her lids with her fingers, watches the world focus and blur over and over like she’s looking through the lens of a shitty camera. For a long while, she stares at the wall opposite her window, at the criss-crossing shadows of the windowsill, elongated and outlining the sunlight.

She feels like she can’t move at all. Like she’s stuck. If she tries to get up now, she’ll just fall right back down. She counts down from five in her head and then sits up. Another five, and she goes to change her shirt.

It doesn’t feel like she’s even participating in herself. Like she’s watching a movie-- or, no, like she’s playing one of those video games, where you can look down at yourself and you have hands and a body, but it’s just a character you’re controlling. Like, Alyssa knows what to do and knows how to make her body do it, but she’s not _really_ doing it. She’s not _really_ alive, just because she is breathing and animated. She’s a shallow, warped entity. That’s all.

Just… a thing that things happen to.

She forces herself to get ready for the day. Her mother’s pills are up high in the medicine cabinet, above the toothbrushes, and Alyssa has a silent stare-off with them as she brushes her teeth. It gets too intense too quickly, so she shuts the cabinet. Leaves her toothbrush on the edge of the sink.

She sneaks into the nursery before heading downstairs, and it’s early enough that the babies aren’t awake yet, but Liv turns her head and squints when Alyssa kneels down by her crib.

“Hiya,” Alyssa whispers.

Liv shakes her head a bit, nestling back down and closing her eyes. Alyssa watches her, throat working around itself, one hand wrapped loosely around one of the bars on the crib. Liv’s head shifts and her lids rise one more time to peer at Alyssa before falling slowly back down. Alyssa slips away before they open again, shutting the door to close out the light.

It’s too early for school, but the alternative is hanging out on the sofa and dwelling on shit, so that’s not happening. Except, when she arrives downstairs, there’s Gwen-- slouching at the kitchen table, wearing a robe and slippers, hands wrapped loosely around a mug. Gwen without her hair done up and her makeup thoroughly applied is a rare sight, but there it is, anyway. She looks like a normal person this morning, a normal mum of three before her coffee, and that’s enough to capture Alyssa in place for a moment or two.

They stare at one another for a bit, like two animals sizing each other up, both wondering _should I be running right now, or is this okay?_ Gwen’s lips are curled into a small grimace, like she’s deciding whether or not she should excuse herself-- or, more likely, the best way to do so.

After another beat, Gwen’s lips shift into a tense little smile, and she glances away while sipping at her coffee. Alyssa takes this as a go-ahead and moves towards the cabinets, rummages around for the Rice Krispies. She quietly fixes up a bowl of cereal for herself and sits down with it, across from her mum.

She stares into the bowl for a moment, at the little crackling puffs, and it’s then that she realizes she doesn't actually _want_ cereal right now, or food, for that matter. She frowns, upper lip curling unpleasantly.

“Do you want this?” she asks her mum.

Gwen startles a bit, sitting up and peering over. She frowns, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t you?”

Alyssa shrugs. Tips the spoon out of the milk and then back, balancing it on the rim of the bowl until it almost slips out.

Gwen sits back. “Well-- leave it for Tony, then. I’ll let him know you fixed it for him.”

Alyssa glances at her mum. “Um, no,” she says plainly.

“I’ll let him know I fixed it for him.”

Alyssa exhales and sits back, arms crossing. She glances out the window. The wind is intense, and she stares at all the tree branches bouncing and waving around in it.

“Do you want coffee, then?” Gwen asks quietly, tentative.

Alyssa turns back to face her. Her immediate internal reaction is _no,_ but for some reason, she hesitates and shrugs. “Yeah, sure,” she utters.

Gwen purses her lips and pushes away from the table. Her chair scrapes loudly against the floor. Well, it’s probably not so loud, actually, but it’s like when you go downstairs in the middle of the night and close a door or rustle a bag of chips or something. It’s equivalent to dropping a plate at any other time. Cringe-inducingly loud and disruptive of the silence.

Alyssa doesn’t watch, but she listens as her mother shuffles around the kitchen, pulling a mug down from the cabinets and pouring coffee into it from the pot.

“Milk? Sugar?” Gwen asks softly, then.

“No thanks.”

She heads back over, and the stupidest mug Alyssa has ever seen slides down in front of her, then, white ceramic with the words _MOMMY FUEL_ written in big letters, and she eyes it for a moment before glancing up at Gwen, debating whether she should say something or not.

“I didn’t know we had this,” she murmurs, which seems like a good compromise between _do we actually own this thing on purpose?_ and staying quiet.

Gwen hums, smiling a little. “Didn’t you? That’s from Shareen, before the kids were born. Clever, yeah?”

Alyssa grips the mug and takes a sip.

She pretty quickly makes a face. Not because she can’t handle black coffee, but because this stuff is shit. Gwen smiles softly like she expected this and nudges her the tin of sugar, which Alyssa takes, glancing up.

“Thanks,” she mutters, dumping a few spoonfuls in and stirring it around. Gwen sips her own coffee.

“Did you and your friend have a nice time yesterday?” Gwen asks, quiet.

Alyssa pauses her stirring, but she doesn’t look up.

_Does he always touch you like that?_

“Yeah,” she murmurs, “it was alright.”

Gwen smiles. “That’s good.”

They go quiet again, for a bit. Alyssa drinks some more of the coffee. It’s bearable, now.

“Was he alright with the kids?”

Alyssa shrugs. “Yeah, fine.”

“Good.”

Alyssa hesitates, tossing a question back and forth in her head, debating whether she cares enough to ask. She purses her lips, eyeing her mother. “Are you always up this early?”

“Well, sometimes,” Gwen tells her, sighing like it’s some big confession. “I like a moment to myself in the morning.”

Alyssa nods. “Me too.”

Well, not exactly. It extends far past morning and well into the day for Alyssa, but the sentiment stands.

And then, as something occurs to her-- “Oh, do you want me to leave, then?”

“No.” Gwen shakes her head, brow slightly furrowed, like _don’t be ridiculous._ She gently places one of her palms on the tabletop. “Stay.”

“Okay.”

It’s a bit awkward, then, but Alyssa doesn’t know how to leave without making it more awkward. So she stays, sips at her coffee, kicks the toe of her left foot into the heel of her right to nudge it across the tile. It’s so quiet.

Gwen shifts, and after a tentative inhale, she asks, “Are you alright, Alyssa?”

Alyssa pauses. Her toes curl, the knot in her stomach twists, and she frowns into her drink. “Yeah? Why?”

Gwen watches her. Her mouth opens, and she hesitates before closing it again and glancing away. “No, forget it.”

Alyssa eyes her mum for a moment, tapping one nail against the ceramic mug.

They both take a sip at the same time.

“He likes babies, then?” Gwen asks, a bit desperate to change the subject.

“I guess so.”

“That’s nice,” she murmurs.

Alyssa hesitates, then frowns. “Why is that nice?”

Gwen glances up, caught off-guard. Slowly, her eyes shift away and she shrugs. “‘S’just-- a good trait in a man. Rare.”

This conversation is going in a weird direction. Alyssa slides her mug away.

“I think I’ll go to school now,” she murmurs.

“Now?” Gwen repeats, sitting up a bit. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Alyssa says, and something should go after that but she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Okay,” Gwen says, a bit quieter, settling back down in her chair.

“Bye, mum.”

“Have a good day.”

She puts on her shoes and coat in the living room, where she can avoid Gwen’s line of sight and any more awkward contact. The morning is cold and grey and silent when she steps outside. Alyssa walks to school.

  
  


The morning goes by in kind of a slow blur, something unfocused and damaged and smudged. Alyssa sits in the back and zones out for the most part, while lessons she should be paying attention to fall into the background, into the cracks between her thoughts. And-- when it’s time for lunch, and Alyssa is facing the cafeteria doors, and students are pushing past her to get in, laughing with their friends, glancing at her with strange expressions-- and then, every time the doors open to let someone come in or out, and she sees the crowd of moving bodies, hears the dull, chattering roar of them, she realizes how her heart is beating in her ears, and-- she can’t do it.

She turns away, and doesn’t realize she’s headed to the courtyard until she is actually there. She settles against the fence, and the freezing wind feels like it’s biting her face off, but it isn’t entirely unwelcome. She needs something to focus on right now.

Maybe she could go to the nurse after this. Going home is an option that she quickly shuts down, because mum will be there with the kids, and she doesn’t-- want that. Not now. The nurse will probably let her lie down for a while if she says she’s got her period, and she might get a ginger ale or something out of it. That could be good, at least for a little while, until she gets kicked out either to go home or back to class. And it’s not like she’d be telling a _complete_ lie, like, she doesn’t have her period, but her stomach does kind of hurt. She’s too aware of her body right now, the weight of it, the responsibility and stress of having one. It’s like someone took the gravity dial and kicked it up a notch or two, just for her. Which isn’t fair, but fuck fair. Alyssa’s here on borrowed time, anyway.

“Alyssa?”

She shoots her head up, startled. James is there, standing near the doors, trembling just a bit from the cold. He’s got his hands together in front of him, rubbing his knuckles, and he’s watching her awkwardly, like he’s hyper aware of himself and doesn’t know what to do with his body.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she says.

James’s brow twitches, and he glances away. “Are you avoiding me?” he asks, tentatively, not accusatory, but like he genuinely wants to know the answer. Alyssa frowns.

“Why would I be avoiding you?” she responds, confused.

James shrugs. He still isn’t looking at her. “Why are you here?”

Alyssa glances downwards at her shoes. “I just like it here,” she mumbles, crossing her arms. “Just because I didn’t come to lunch doesn’t mean I’m avoiding you.”

James nods and looks away from her. “Okay.”

Both of them falter, neither knowing what to say next.

“Can I join you?” asks James.

“Yeah, alright.”

James moves towards her and sits down on her right, fingers twitching a little, shoulders involuntarily tense as his body tries to keep itself warm. Alyssa feels a twinge of guilt, watching him, and she swallows.

“You don’t _have_ to sit out here with me if you don’t want,” she tells him.

“I know,” he says, voice tilting higher.

“If it’s because you feel bad for me or something, like, I’m fine, so--”

“No,” he says, “it’s not.”

She glances at him, skeptical. He’s got his arms around his knees and he looks back at her earnestly.

“Really,” he insists.

Alyssa looks away, not convinced, but she’s not gonna argue. “Yeah, okay.”

They go quiet for a minute or so, James glancing at her now and again, fraying his sleeves. He opens his mouth a couple times like he wants to say something.

“Yes, James?” Alyssa prompts him, a little bit impatient.

“It’s just.” He sucks his teeth for a moment, not sure where to look. “Are you okay, though?”

Alyssa grimaces. “That’s a bold question to ask your suicide partner.”

James flinches, or maybe just trembles a little extra violently. “No, I get that, but.” He frowns, lips twisting. “Are you?”

Alyssa sighs and drops her shoulders. She sticks a finger to her temple. “I don’t like this,” she admits. “The waiting. I want to get it over with.”

James looks at her, a little surprised, maybe, but he stays quiet.

“It’s no good, James,” she says, keeping her eyes on him so she doesn’t-- shit, like, blow away or something. “It’s just… fuck. I dunno.”

He swallows, at that, and nods, eyes dropping. “I’m sorry,” he tells her.

Alyssa wrinkles her nose. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay.”

They sit quietly for a spell. Alyssa sighs and wipes hair from her face, and neither of them look at one another.

“James,” Alyssa murmurs, glancing at him and his skinny, cold, shivering body. She’s starting to feel a bit worried about him. “Go inside.”

James shakes his head. “I don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do, you’re freezing.”

“I want to stay here.”

Alyssa clicks her tongue, because he is such a shitty liar, and clearly there is only one way for this to go. She stands up and grabs his arm, pulling him up, too.

“Come on,” she murmurs, tugging him along.

They walk across the yard and back inside with cold, rosy cheeks, and Alyssa frowns, sliding her hands down his shoulders in a shallow attempt to get warmth into him.

“Look at you.” she murmurs unhappily.

James watches her quietly. She doesn’t know where to go, now.

“We need to find somewhere where there’s not a lot of people,” she says.

“Okay,” says James.

“I can’t be around a lot of people right now.”

“Okay.”

She pulls him along, honestly not sure where she’s going. If she doesn’t stop herself she’ll walk out the front doors and probably get hit by a car or something. And it would be rude if she did that now, before the month is up. It wouldn’t be fair to James. Shit, maybe they’ll just, like, circle around, keep walking until James realizes there is no destination and goes to class. That might be kind of awkward, though.

When they pass the lunchroom James stops.

Alyssa frowns. “James--”

“I know,” he says. “I’m not-- just wait here, give me one second.”

They look at each other for a moment while James waits for her ‘okay.’ Still frowning, Alyssa leans against the wall and crosses her arms. James nods and heads in.

Alyssa looks up and down the hallway, self-conscious, even though no one else is even there at the moment. Her palms are sweating and she’s got a headache and her jaw is sore from gritting her teeth and her forehead is aching from wrinkling her brow. She tenses up all her fingers out of habit and bends them to make them pop, which has always been her body’s way of saying _get out of this situation now._

She waits for James.

He comes back a couple of minutes later with a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bag of kettle crisps in hand. He waves with it and gives her a quick smile, which she half heartedly returns. She hasn’t even been thinking about how hungry she is, but now that it’s come up, she missed breakfast, and she’s starving. She hopes he intends to share that.

They keep walking, and when they reach the auditorium, Alyssa stops. She tugs on James’s sleeve and they head inside, where it is dark and empty and quiet, and Alyssa sighs with relief. They walk directly past the _no food/drinks_ sign and sit down in the very back with their lunch, right under the lighting and sound booth. James unwraps the sandwich and hands half of it to Alyssa, who bites into it like she has never once seen food before in her life. James is probably staring, but she doesn’t care. She could judge him the same, he eats his food like a mouse or something. James doesn’t even eat, he just kind of nibbles and then throws half the food away when he’s done.

Fuck, maybe he’s anorexic. She pauses her chewing and eyes him for a moment. He’s looking ahead at the stage.

James is really skinny, like a tall baby deer maybe, but he’s not like a skeleton. And he does _eat,_ just not a lot, and if he was anorexic he would’ve told her probably?

 _Whatever you do, don’t ask that question. Do not,_ she tells herself internally.

“You’re not anorexic, are you?”

_Fuck._

James looks at her like she’s grown two heads. Neither James nor Alyssa speak for a moment.

“No,” he says.

“Okay.” Alyssa takes another big bite of her sandwich so she won’t be able to talk anymore. At least that’s settled.

But the silence is broken, now.

“Will you go back to class after this?” James asks, picking at his crust.

Alyssa shakes her head. “No point,” she mumbles through her food. It feels like there’s too much water in her brain for her to be able to focus on a class. On anything except for actively staying alive, really, and even that’s a fifty-fifty right now.

“Should I skip with you?”

Alyssa shrugs. “If you want.”

When her half of the sandwich is gone, she opens the crisps bag and crunches on them noisily. Both of them are watching the empty stage like there’s a show going on, even though there’s not. Alyssa finishes the crisps on her own, and at one point James reaches over to grab some, except they’re already gone by then.

“Oh,” Alyssa cringes, “sorry.”

“It’s fine,” says James.

He sticks the plastic wrap from the sandwich into the empty bag while it’s still in Alyssa’s hand, and she looks at it for a moment before throwing it a few rows ahead. She sticks her legs over the seat in front of her and slides down until her chin is to her chest. James watches her for a moment, and then looks back at the stage again. It’s sort of-- _too_ quiet now. It feels like they’re just ghosts or something and they’re stuck here, watching some invisible ghost play, and they can’t ever leave. Alyssa frowns unhappily.

“James?” She mumbles, eyes cast downwards.

“Yes?”

“It feels like I’m not real,” she says. James looks at her, then.

“You are,” he tells her.

It’s like there’s just static where her spot in existence is meant to be. And the voice in her brain keeps saying _well, yeah, that’s just your default state. This is what you are._ Even when she’s, like, painting a wall or spraying whipped cream into her mouth or rocking her baby sister back and forth, she’s always waiting for the ball to drop, for the water to slip through her fingers, for Liv to grow up and say _you don’t exist to me anymore._

“Alyssa?” James utters, a few moments later.

“Yeah?”

“Shall we do something weird?”

And sometimes there’s moments where a hand will tighten around her hand, and she’s a little bit solid again, a little bit of color returns to her body, and nothing is _better_ exactly but it’s quieter, and she doesn’t feel so much like an extra in her own life. Alyssa looks at James, surprised.

“Yeah, okay,” she says.

Alyssa and James leave the auditorium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I wanna know what it's like to be awkward and innocent, not belligerent](https://youtu.be/r6OuvaesBB0)
> 
> tw: alyssa is pretty much having an anxiety attack throughout this entire chapter
> 
> sooo happy belated new year to all of you and also happy belated holidays! did you get any good presents? this chapter took a LONG time because I had writer's block but here it is now and hopefully chapter nine will be quicker (ps comments help jfsfjdshf)
> 
> [julia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliasaint/pseuds/juliasaint) my friend and beta was really helpful editing this one so thank you julia!!
> 
> alphabetingfic.tumblr.com is me if you want to talk, I’m always happy to get messages and stuff!!
> 
> comments are very wonderful and make me write faster so maybe next chapter won’t take so ridiculously long, just let me know what you liked or didn’t like, what stood out, whatever <3
> 
> thanks very much!


	9. Elbows, Knees, Wrists, Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alyssa and James jump around. It's a bit noisy. Gwen reaches out to her firstborn, much to Tony's chagrin. Grandma Vivian is kind of a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and head shoulders knees and toes

Alyssa and James head off down the middle of the road. She definitely feels cold, the same way she can feel her feet hitting against the pavement, the dryness in her nose as she inhales, the edges of her nails near the crook of her elbow, and she can see the rows of trees in front of her, and the shape of James beside her. All the ingredients are there to create this thing called Real Life, but they refuse to meld together, so she’s left with a bunch of things that don’t mean anything, puzzle pieces that are all from different boxes.

They walk for a pretty long time. Alyssa assumes they’re headed to James’s house, but she hasn’t actually asked and he hasn’t told, so she doesn’t really know. He takes her sleeve and gently pulls her along to the side of the street every time a car comes along, and then like magnets they head back to the center. They don’t talk, and they don’t look at each other.

Eventually, with Alyssa being aware but not fully realizing, they walk up James’s driveway, to his front door. He unlocks it with a key from under the mat and walks in first, holding the door open for her and smiling softly, and she unties her jacket from her waist as soon as she’s past the threshold, leaving it on the rug in a heap. James tosses the key back outside carelessly and shuts the door.

“Come on,” he utters, quiet but upbeat, and it’s the first thing either of them have said since leaving the school. He takes her hand and pulls her into the living room, and Alyssa stares blankly at their clasped hands until he lets go of her to walk to the cabinet and crouch down by a large stack of CD cases. He grabs one from the top, blows a bit of dust off the top, and then opens it. She can’t see what it is from her standpoint, but clearly it hasn’t been used in a while. James pops the CD into the large stereo and pushes the play button.

A [song](https://youtu.be/q45TyPk8yiI) begins to play, something old and familiar that she can’t put her finger on. James turns the volume up, _way_ up, and then turns to face her, corners of his mouth twitching, unsure of himself but determined nonetheless.

And then, he turns away, and he steps up onto his coffee table.

Alyssa stares, more confused by the second as he extends his hand towards her and waits for her to take it. And she does, after a beat, because she doesn’t know what else to do. James pulls her up alongside him, except, he doesn’t let go after that-- in fact, he reaches over gently to take her _other_ hand. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but it doesn’t quite feel like dust is drifting through her entire body anymore and sticking to her lungs, so she lets it keep happening.

Slowly, James begins pulling at her arms, like Alyssa is a puppet and he is making her dance. She blinks, watching this all occur, and the music picks up, and-- _oh my god._

Her eyes snap up to his face, and a smile fights its way to hers. “James,” she utters, just loud enough to be heard over the music, “are you trying to do like _Matilda?”_

James shrugs, still smiling but not meeting her eyes, like he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t stop moving, though.

So _that’s_ why she recognized the song. She stands limply, in shock for a moment, just allowing herself to be tugged around by James, and-- the music is so loud. She feels like covering her ears, almost, but she can’t because James has both of her hands in his, and they are _dancing._ This, right now, it’s existing in a different type of way. And it’s… not bad.

James lets go of one hand and lifts the other above their heads, and he twirls Alyssa before she has time to brace herself. Her stomach jolts and she almost topples off of the coffee table, but James frantically snatches her other shoulder before she can, and she’s forced to lean on him a bit as he pulls her back up.

“Sorry, sorry,” he scrambles to say, letting go of her again as she finds her footing, and she looks at him for a moment, with his wide eyes, waiting for her reaction, and she-- laughs. Just a little, but it’s there, and it’s light, and maybe she is still alive, after all.

She takes his hands back, without looking away from his face, and starts moving again, bouncing, swaying, swinging their arms. She’s still, like, mostly just in shock, but she doesn’t want this to stop. Alyssa twirls James around, and he doesn’t fall.

They must look fucking insane, and ‘finding money to pay for a broken coffee table’ might be next on the bucket list if they keep this up, but Alyssa doesn’t care. All that stuff goes in a different box than the one she’s in right now. She’s alive in a completely isolated way, and it’s so good. She grins at James, and he smiles back, mouth crooked, eyes bright.

And then she does something bold, and leaps from the coffee table to the sofa, jumping up and down on the springy cushions with her arms in the air for balance. James makes the jump after her and they almost collide, and she laughs as he almost topples over the back. She helps to hoist him back up and then they hold hands, jumping around like children, trying not to crash into each other or fall.

“Fuck!” she cries. Nothing goes wrong, but she feels like contributing to this noise, somehow.

 _“Shit!”_ James shouts in response, voice cracking with volume. She squeezes his hand.

There’s no room to feel self-conscious, not in this bubble. She closes her eyes and laughs, and James squeezes her hand, too.

The song fades out, but they don’t stop jumping. A new one starts up, one she doesn’t recognize, but it’s equally as loud and upbeat as the first.

“Yeah!” she shouts over the sound, waving her arms and headbanging like it’s a metal song.

James accidentally smacks her in the face, then, and she shoves his head in retaliation, but he grabs her hand before she can pull away. They swing their clasped hands, tugging one another around, knocking elbows and knees and twisting wrists and fingers and Alyssa is soaking in joy through the smile on her face. She has never seen James less self-conscious, stretching his whole face with his smile, out of breath and sucking air in, hair flopping around wildly. Alyssa, in this moment, right here, has never felt happier to know someone.

A burst of excitement has Alyssa gathering momentum and then attempting to, like-- twirl in the air, or something, whatever, she just sort of does it without thinking. This turns out to be a bad idea, because upon landing, her right foot slips off the cushion and she topples to the floor before she even knows what’s happening. Except, she doesn’t let go of James first, so he comes crashing down with her. They sit there, music still blasting, James’s hands on either side of Alyssa’s waist, both of them waiting for the other to start freaking out, or for the pain of a sprained ankle to set in.

It doesn’t, though.

Alyssa bursts out laughing.

And after another few seconds, James does, too.

The sound practically startles her into silence. It’s this quiet, gasping sound, but he leans back against the sofa with his head back and his eyes shut and his nose all crinkly, and he’s smiling wider than she’s ever seen him smile. Alyssa hasn’t heard James laugh before, not really. It’s so… _much._

Someone clears their throat from behind them, then, and that really _does_ make her startle. James freezes, and his smile fades. Alyssa clambers to her feet, and there’s Phil in the entryway, bag of groceries in one hand and car keys in the other. He looks bewildered. He and Alyssa stare at each other for a few seconds while James picks himself up, and then rushes over to shut the music off. Suddenly, Alyssa can hear her own heavy breathing, and James’s, too.

“Hi,” says Phil, dumbly.

No one speaks.

“What were you two, ah…?” he continues, looking between them, slowly setting his groceries down. Alyssa keeps her eyes firmly on anything but him.

“We were dancing,” says James. He and Alyssa make eye contact, and he presses his lips together like he’s holding back another smile. His chest is visibly rising and falling, and his face is a bit flushed. She smiles back, a little crooked, a little self-conscious.

“Dancing,” Phil repeats, watching James like he’s just done a flip or belted a high c, taking in the laugh lines of his son’s face, watching James like he is a new species of life.. He looks confused, but happy.

James ducks his head to compose himself. Swallows. “Yeah,” he says.

“Bit noisy,” Phil comments.

“Well, yeah,” says James.

“It’s alright, I mean, I’m not--” Phil laughs awkwardly. “I’m not the noise police or anything, I just. Well.”

There’s a beat of silence. Alyssa purses her lips, and the buoyancy in her chest is already beginning to flatten and deflate. She flexes her hands. Feels herself curling inwards again.

“I’m glad you were having fun,” Phil says, decidedly. He looks between them with a firm smile and a nod. “Anyway, I’ll just be-- putting these away,” he says, picking his groceries back up again, gesturing with them.

“Okay,” says James.

“Should we help?” Alyssa murmurs to James, awkwardly, through her teeth, as Phil exits the room. James looks at her, shaking his head, and she leaves it at that.

“Oi, hang on--” Phil comes stumbling back in from the kitchen a moment later, a puzzled frown on his face. “What time is it? You two are meant to be at school, aren’t you?”

“Alyssa wasn’t feeling well,” says James, which isn’t _not_ true, exactly.

The frown doesn’t leave Phil’s expression, but he nods. “Right,” he says, shaking his head. He ducks back into the kitchen. Alyssa and James look at one another, and then quickly away.

  
  


She doesn’t stay long, after that. Seeing James so high and alive has started to make her feel-- dunno, kind of responsible? Like she’s got this culpability for his death. And that was fine before, when he was so stoic all the time, when he seemed half-dead already, but today-- not just today, but lately, his body has become less of a shell and more of a breathing, beating, smiling thing, and how is she supposed to leap off a bridge and drag him with her? How can she hold his hand and pull him down off the side?

But then, what’s the alternative?

Her head can’t hang onto that train of thought properly. Her lungs are small again and her head stays ducked low, and she’s going to kill herself in a few weeks. At the same time, her hands are warm from being tangled up with James’s, and her hair is mussed from shaking it around so much, and she can feel in her muscles and bones that tingling, stretchy feeling you get after exercising, that feeling that is distinctly _alive,_ so what is she at this point?

James has rattled sleeping pills into the same burnt palm he used to grab Alyssa’s hand and squeeze. And Alyssa has squeezed back, with the same hand she sliced a razor blade across, crying on a toilet seat, running bathwater for herself to die in. How can those facts be true at the same time?

Alyssa isn’t equipped to answer that question. She walks in a straight line all the way home.

  
  


The bottoms of her boots are all wet with crushed leaves and dirt by the time Alyssa’s home, and they make a small mess near the door. It’s pretty quiet, which is weird, so maybe no one is home? She leaves her shoes near the rack and navigates quietly to the kitchen, praying to god that she’s right and she’s alone. The idea of getting a snack uninterrupted right now--

“Hi, Alyssa,” says Gwen, before Alyssa has hardly even rounded the corner, soft and reaching for cheerful.

Alyssa cringes, because Tony is there with her. They’re sat across from one another at the table, her sipping tea with hunched shoulders, him leaning back and flipping through a magazine. He doesn’t acknowledge Alyssa’s arrival, but Gwen watches her like she doesn’t know where else to look, always with that worried smile of hers.

“Hi,” Alyssa mumbles. She heads to the refrigerator, because she’s already here, so she may as well do what she came for. She sticks her nose in the vegetables bin, sorts around, and ends up grabbing a bag of baby carrots. “Where are the twins?” she asks, biting the top off one, crunching noisily.

“Napping,” says Gwen. “Tony and I decided to spend some of our free time having tea and chatting.”

Alyssa glances between them. Tony hasn’t looked up once through this entire interaction, since Alyssa walked in the door.

Gwen places one palm on the table, on the place beside herself. “Join us, love.”

Self-consciously, Alyssa walks over and slides into the seat Gwen had gestured to. Gwen smiles at her, and it’s quiet and awkward for a moment.

“How was school?” asks Gwen.

Alyssa shrugs. “Normal,” she answers. She pops the rest of the carrot in her mouth, but burrows it in her cheek and sucks it instead of chewing.

Gwen hums politely in acknowledgement and drinks some more tea. Alyssa eyes the mug surreptitiously, head low, once it’s placed back down, cradled between Gwen’s cracked fingers. She used to, like-- when she was little, Alyssa always used to do the same thing, even with her baby cups, she’d carefully replicate the way Gwen kept her hands grasped around her drinks, the same way she would clutch stray business cards or slips of paper between her index and middle finger just like her dad held his credit cards and cigarettes.

“What were you chatting about?” Alyssa murmurs around the carrot. She pulls her gaze off the drink and distracts herself by twisting up the plastic bag with the carrots.

“Oh.” Gwen glances up at Tony. “Just-- anything,” she says, which means they haven’t really talked. Alyssa nods anyway. There’s more quiet, so Alyssa finally eats the carrot.

“We talked about your grandma Vivian,” Gwen says, speaking up again, but her eyes are on Tony as she says this. He glances up from his magazine, frowning a bit, but Alyssa can’t tell if it’s at what his wife’s said, or if it’s just his ugly resting face.

Grandma Vivian is Tony’s mother, an old croon who Alyssa’s met twice. The first time was Christmas a year ago, when Gwen was still pregnant, and Vivian had mainly ignored Alyssa, except to comment on how thin she was in a passing, mildly insulting sort of way. The second time was Tony and Gwen’s wedding, where Vivian cackled at how Alyssa looked in the poofy, cream-puff-esque dress she’d been shoved into, and later snapped at her to bring her over a martini. Alyssa had told her to get it herself and then walked away, and that’s the last she remembers of old grandma Vivian, who she _is_ forced to call “grandma,” otherwise pending a sharp jab in the ribs from Gwen.

Grandpa Alastair is there, too, but he’s a bit braindead, so there’s not much to say on him. He offered her a tin of biscuits, once, but when she opened it, all it had inside were buttons. He might’ve been pulling a joke on her, but he hadn’t laughed, so she assumes he’s just losing it. He’s alright, anyway.

They own a Schrodinger’s cat, too. Its name is Whitey and Alyssa has never actually seen it, but they talk about it like it’s still alive, so god knows.

“Is she sick?” Alyssa asks casually.

“No,” Gwen says, looking at her daughter with a perturbed frown. “No.”

“It’s her birthday this weekend,” says Tony, in a pointed way. He keeps looking at his magazine. “We’re taking the babies to visit.”

He doesn’t say the “without you” part, but he doesn’t have to. Alyssa gets it. Most visits to Tony’s parents don’t involve her, so the rule is basically “assume you’re not invited unless we tell you otherwise.”

“Okay,” says Alyssa.

Gwen hesitates, then drinks some more tea, then hesitates again. She sighs and taps the side of her mug with one long nail. Alyssa watches this display curiously.

“Would you like to come with?” Gwen asks, finally, pointedly looking down at her drink and not at Tony, who glances up sharply, and this time he really is frowning.

“Gwen,” he says.

“Your grandparents’ll be happy to have you,” she continues, quiet, like she’s scared of what will happen if she speaks too loudly. “And it won’t be a terribly long time. They’ll have cake.”

“Gwen,” Tony repeats, louder. “I thought that would be just me and you and the kids.”

Gwen looks at him, finally. Alyssa expects her to back down, but she sits a little straighter and says, “Yes, well, Alyssa’s part of that, isn’t she?”

Alyssa gapes, practically.

“My mum shouldn’t have to make room for an extra guest on her birthday,” he argues, snapping the magazine shut and placing it on the table. “She’ll be seventy-two. We shouldn’t stress her.”

“It’s only one more guest, sweetheart.”

Alyssa watches all this silently, not knowing what to say even if she could get a word in. She doesn’t quite know what’s happening, or why her mum is suddenly vouching for her like this.

Gwen turns to her daughter, smiling nervously. “Alyssa,” she says, “would you like to come?”

Alyssa doesn’t speak for a moment, trying to figure out the right answer to that question. She glances at Tony, who is scowling, and then back at her mum, who is struggling to ignore Tony’s scowl.

“Okay,” she utters.

“Great.” Gwen smiles a little bigger and takes Alyssa’s hand. Alyssa looks down at their hands, at Gwen’s thumb rubbing against her knuckles, and she doesn’t know how to feel. She’s confused, mostly.

“Yeah, great,” Tony gripes. “I’ll tell mum to go and buy some more food to prepare.”

He stands up sharply and both women watch as he turns and leaves the room.

“It’s Sunday,” Gwen says, turning back to her daughter, rather than go after him, which is another surprise. Her smile is still a little pained, but her voice is a little louder, too. “It’s just dinner. I’ll let you know the time.”

“Sure,” murmurs Alyssa, bewildered.

Gwen squeezes her hand once more and then leaves to go after her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [any distance from you is too far away](https://youtu.be/BRxc3Z8Dgjo)
> 
> idk if any of you are matilda buffs but just in case you are I will be the first to say-- I know the version of the song they dance to is not the same as the matilda version, but I like this one better, so there. (on second thought I'm probably just calling myself out here because none of you are matilda buffs, oh well)
> 
> GOD the happy fun scenes are my weakness and they are so hard to write for some reason so let me know if this one worked for you
> 
> thank you julia again for betaing <333 you are truly a star in the sky!!
> 
> alphabetingfic.tumblr.com is meeee come be my friend
> 
> comments are wonderful if you don't mind taking a moment to leave one?
> 
> thank you very much!!!


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